


The Less I Know The Better

by selunchen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bastard Ben, Bathroom Sex, Ben is a mess, Ben is not Rey’s soulmate, Dating other people, Does that mean angst train?, F/M, Finn is Rey’s Soulmate, Finn/Rey kiss one time, Han canonically dead, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Mention of wanting children, Mentions of Cancer, No impact on the story, Phone Sex, Prior Relationships, Rey is a mess, Reylo HEA, Soulmates, This is the fic that finally got me cancelled by reylo fandom, but is weirdly sad, but no pregnancy, but not really, but then Finn kisses Poe a lot, the break up fic I’ve always wanted to write, this is not the soulmate fic you are looking for, unseen character death, we are on angst train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 86,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selunchen/pseuds/selunchen
Summary: Rey is due to marry the love of her life, Ben Solo. All is good, all is well!Except -- she just sparked with their wedding photographer. Finn Storm.Choo choo goes the angst train!
Relationships: Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 640
Kudos: 367





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna get so fucking canceled over this.
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

****

2020

  
  


The airconditioner whirrs a soft old tune, blowing a mix of warm and cold air into the small photography studio. There are three chairs at the desk, but only two people. Their coffee is cooling, untouched. A small wrapped chocolate rests neatly next to the basic cream cup. Yet neither has made any attempt at stuffing it into their mouth to savour the sweetness. Or as Rey has come to expect, how Ben will accept it and then secretly stuff the chocolate into her palm. 

Always saving her a bit of the world’s sweetness just for her.

They sit still, both staring straight ahead and Rey rubs the fingers on her right hand with hard strokes. They feel numb. Buzzing. A strange kind of buzz. Not quite like when you get hit by static electricity. It doesn’t zap painfully like that. But it had definitely felt sharp, like a gentle slap. 

Playful, teasing.

Ben is silent next to her, but she can see how his chest heaves, as if she’s struggling to breath. Even from the corner of her eye, she can he looks just as stunned as she is, just as surprised.

But not in a good way.

Rey wants desperately to check if he’s alright. Yet, she finds that she can’t. Not with how her body is a well of elevation and shame, each feeling rolling over her in intense waves. At one point she’s the happiest she has ever been, and the next she feels hurt, fear - Because how can she possibly even think this is okay? Of course Ben is upset! But is this even her place to comfort him any more?

She licks her lips and opens her mouth “I didn’t know - I.”

“I know.” He bites the words. Clenching his fist. 

Rey swallows, his tone a cruel reminder of what has now changed between them. 

Yet, she hears herself say. “This - this doesn’t change anything.” 

The words sound fake even to her own ears, but she so desperately wants to salvage what was supposed to have been a good day. 

An amazing day. The engagement ring on her right hand burns on her skin. 

Should she take it off? 

Ben Adam’s apple bobs, before he softly and slowly nods, his hand still clenching and unclenching in his lap. 

She knows that look, the painful tightening of his jaw, as he tries to contain the words, to hold back painful truths. They have been together for 5 years after all, she knows him by now. 

With a breaking heart, eyes burning, she places her marked hand on his, gripping it tight. 

“Ben - it doesn’t matter. We’ll still get married. I love you.” Rey tries to smile. “It’s just…- he’s  _ just _ my soulmate.”

“ _ Just _ your soulmate …”, he half whispers, burying his face in his palm, purposely drawing his face away from hers. 

Her chest tightens, her heart groans and she would be close to a panic attack, were it not for the fact that he gently turns his left hand to fold it into hers. He doesn’t let go of it. It doesn’t calm her, not at all, but it's  _ something _ . This hasn’t broken them. 

“Ben, I- I didn’t know. Okay? He honestly seemed just surprised - as me - as you, that we sparked!”

“I know,” he half whispers, face still turned away from her, his voice subdued and injured more than anything. He doesn’t even sound angry, which is the worst part of it.

“Don’t go there, wherever you are going now.” Her throat feels so dry. It’s been such a long time since she’s had to say those words, and it feels daunting to do so. “Please look at me.”

With some reluctance, which pains her, he pulls his face free from his hand and his eyes shimmer brown and liquid. 

Sometimes she thinks it's amazing how they aren’t soulmates with how alike they are. The tears well in hers too at the sight of disappointment clear on his face. 

_ This silly man. _ She smiles and turns his face by the cheek and kisses him firmly on the lips. Because she  _ loves _ him. So, so much.

He sighs defeated and presses back, the tenseness in his shoulders dissolving like a pieces of clay in water. They are good. It's good. She’s gonna marry Ben in three months, they are good.

Someone clears their throat at the door, shy and hesitant, uncomfortable that they are interrupting this private moment. Rey and Ben both turn to look at him.

It's her soulmate.

Finn Storm.

Their wedding photographer. 

The irony of her situation doesn’t fail to impress her.

“I - sorry to interrupt. I just have a client in fifteen minutes for a shooting and I’d just like to talk about this before you leave.” Finn tries to smile, waving his phone in some odd apology. Ben’s hand twitches in her grip, and she is pretty sure she is the only one returning Finn’s smile. 

Finn’s mouth twists, almost af if he too finds the whole situation as ridiculous as her. His eyes though are unwavering on her form, intense and curious, but it doesn’t unnerve her like it would with others. It almost seems...right, that he should be looking at her always. 

Ben twirls and rubs her ring on her finger. Almost as if he needs an anchor. A reminder of who he is to her. 

Finn smiles an apologetic smile and pulls a chair to sit next to them. The samples from his previous work are still mockingly displayed on the table in front of them. The crinkling eyes and smiles of the portraits around them are taunting reminder. Finn is nervous, she can feel it, but there’s also a determination too and with a steely resolve he turns and looks straight at Ben Solo, unwavering. 

“I’m not sure what standard practise is in situations like this -” Finn begins “- but I just want to make it clear that I am not here to  _ steal  _ your fiance. You can trust me on that.”

Ben grimaces, but nods and replies - with only some venom - “but I guess this won’t be the last we see of you?”

“That’s up to Rey.  _ Both of you _ . While I was out the back -” Finn shrugs and glances out the big bright window. “- I called an ex of mine, someone who found a soulmate a few years ago. Asked them what to do.” Finn rubs his neck as he tries to find the words. 

“If Rey wants to, if you both do - they suggested we get registered, there’s some benefits, taxes etc. that comes with it. A large support network too, that can help us navigate… _ this. _ ” Finn gestures lightly between all of them, this weird...triangle of theirs.

Ben’s trembles, and she tries to calm him by stroking her thumb along his knuckles. And before Ben’s anger, his insecurities, gets the better of him, Rey opens her mouth. “Thank you. For understanding. Really. But you are right - I think we need to talk about this first - It’s all...very overwhelming.” 

The words sound weird, but true in her mouth, and she’s surprised that Finn doesn’t look hurt. She’s surprised in general, that he appears to not even be threatened or intimidated by how she’s in a relationship - heck, she’s about to get married. Usually, from the stories her friends have told, soulmates tend to be possessive - jealous, especially of other existing partners.

Yet, despite everything, the gold ring on her finger, Ben’s hand in hers, it’s clear to her that her... _ soulmate _ is different. She already knows. 

“Of course. No rush - I mean -” He laughs, a nice belly laugh that prickles at her skin “- this won’t like...go away anytime soon. It’s for life I guess.” His teeth are pearly white and straight, his dark skin glistens as his cheeks dimple. 

He has a nice face.

Rey chuckles and leans into Ben, who remains stoic and tight lipped, his cheeks slightly red-stained with anger, perhaps even frustration, before something in him submits at the light mood - and perhaps the fact that Rey keeps touching him.

Blowing a hot gust of air out of his nose, he surrenders and mumbles “Fine.”

It’ll all be okay.

  
  


****

2015

  
  
  


It is not okay.

It really isn’t.

He’s  _ drunk _ .

Rey clutches the tray tightly in her hand, the small plates clinking lightly, as she comes to the realisation that Leia Organa’s son has shown up  _ wasted _ at his father’s funeral. 

At first she had thought he was simply too shaken. That the sunglasses were meant to hide his red and swollen eyes, to shield people from the tears that were surely running down his cheeks. And for a while she had slowly begun to carve in a spot for him in her heart. Her treacherous compassion always made her susceptible to things broken and lost, people who need to be salvaged - and today it is the wayward son of her boss.

Afterall, he had shown up to Han’s funeral after not having spoken to either parent for six years. That surely has to say something about his character. He even brought his girlfriend.

And his dark sweaty curls - which looks like the softest thing known to man - shows just how much he must be suffering. He can’t even fathom the idea of showering.

But then he had risen from his chair in the corner and tumbled into Poe’s father, spilling wine on his own dress shirt, while mumbling something she couldn’t make out. And the girlfriend, blond and long limbed, doesn’t even look up from her phone to help him. Like she is used to this. 

He’s not sad.

He’s drunk.

This is that first time Rey met Ben Solo. 

With a soft growl, she pulls the dishwasher open and with more force than is probably necessary, she shoves the plates inside. It rattles against the metal and she should have known that her own frustration and impatience would summon Leia. It was if the matriarch of the Skywalker cooperation always knew when Rey was upset.

“It’s okay, Rey. Let them be. I’ll clean up later.” 

Rey turns around on her heels and looks over her shoulder. Even with the perfect makeup, the bags under Leia’s eyes tell a grueling story. She must be exhausted. Rey wishes her boss would have taken the time off, but as Leia keeps telling her,  _ crime doesn’t take breaks.  _

Some days she wonders how she could have been so lucky to stumble on Han Solo on the road and been the one to fix his broken down car. She knows that had it not been for that accidental meeting she would have been stuck cleaning grime and fighting off unwanted advances for the rest of her life. 

And had it not been for Han, she would never have met his wife and gotten her first real proper job. One where they pay her in real money, and not vague threats of starvation.

Will she ever be deserving of their love, their compassion?

“Leia, you shouldn’t. There’s already so much you need to do-” Rey tries to interrupt, but her boss simply raises her painted hand, stopping her. She’s still wearing her wedding ring. 

“Go home Rey. Take some days off. It’s been hard on you too. I want you to be in fighting shape when you come back.”

Rey frowns, it’s not like her job as the assistant to everyone at the office is a vital function, but she has known Leia long enough to know when she cannot be persuaded. 

“Please call me if you need anything.  _ Anything _ .” Rey draws the older woman’s hand into hers, clutching them tightly.

The fabric of Leia’s black dress is warm, soft and silky, when she draws Rey into a tight hug, her arms circling the taller girl’s shoulders, which the lonely scavenger easily reciprocates. 

She will take any affection anyone is willing to give her. 

The driveway is dark, when she finally manages to escape the house, her heels exchanged for her comfortable riding boots, as she makes her way to her motorbike, until someone speaks from behind her.

“So. You’re my replacement.”

Rey has never heard him talk before, but she knows by instinct that the deep dark voice can belong to the nefarious son of Han and Leia.

Squaring her shoulders, she stops her march to freedom but doesn’t turn her head to recognize him. He’s probably the type that relishes in provoking people to a rage. She won’t let him have that.

“What do  _ you _ want?” 

A pause, the sound of a cigarette burning, and then he exhales. “I expected something different, when I heard the rumours.”

“Like what.”

“Not a child.”

_ This _ makes her turn her head, clutching her helmet tight against her ribs. 

His sunglasses are off, and she sees it clearly now. The cigarette burns lazily between his fingers as he studies her, but it illuminates the redness of his eyes, the flushed expression on his face and grim lines around his mouth. It’s an unremarkable face, too long, too many angles. 

Yet, a part of her makes her want to draw it, to frame it and study it. Because there’s something -

“I’m 19.” She announces, squaring her shoulders. 

He takes another drag, unresponsive. 

His impassiveness ignites the slumbering embers in her blood, the curbed anger from watching him stumble across the floor. It makes Han’s death hurt. It makes the fact that Leia is on her own cleaning the kitchen so much more unfair. He should be in there, helping her, comforting her. He’s their flesh and blood, the one who despite everything, they still love.

He’s what she’s not.

“Why did you hate your father?” She spits, the prickle of tears - of days without any sleep, of her heart being fractured into a thousand pieces when Leia called a week ago - slowly overwhelming her. “You had a father who loved you. Who gave a  _ damn _ about you!”

He blinks, perplexed by her assault, “I did not hate my father.”

Oh, she knows this. He’s baiting her, she knows he is. He likes to rile people. She has heard enough horrible stories from Poe to know exactly what he was up to. Even though for a brief second her compassion started to believe he might be different. 

Rey has suffered worse than him, seen worse than him. He’s just empty words and empty promises, he’s not the guy who will show up at night with a gun and a gang asking for his money. 

No. She’s not scared of him.

She twists to face him fully, eyes shimmering, and puffs her chest, hissing, “ _ You’re a monster _ .”

The accusation seems to hit  _ something _ , because he pauses. Just for a moment. 

No sound passes between them, except their eyes staring daggers, spitting the words neither can articulate, until his...doesn’t. The crickets serenade their silent fight, the background music of what would turn out to be the turning point of their entire life, a dark beginning to a wonderful tale. 

His gaze becomes wild, dark and searching, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, burning away to nothing. He reminds her of a dangerous wounded animal, ready to fight for survival, ready to attack, even if he’s bound to lose. 

“Yes, I am.”

Contrary to what Rey expected, his dark, deep voice makes something warm  _ curl _ in her stomach and her lips part in surprise, her heart slams against her ribs. 

“Rey-” he begins -

But it's too late, she runs to her motorbike, speeding off before he can ever even reach her. 

She hates him, she hates him, hates him.

And it's comforting to instinctively know, to feel it deep within her soul, that a person like him can’t possibly be her soulmate. No way, no.

And yet, deep within her, his burning eyes demand to ask a question -

Could it be?

****

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna get so fucking canceled over this.
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

****

2020

_“No. No. It’s not a question about couples counseli-!”_ she hears Ben shout into the phone from her spot on the living room couch. The laptop hides her face perfectly as she listens in on the conversation he is having. His voice is loud despite his best effort to not yell.

Their gazes catch when he steps into view through the kitchen door. Rey swallows, thinking back on the silence in the car when they had driven back from their appointment at Finn’s.

His mouth downturn at the sight of her on the couch, and reaches over to close the door. Properly out of consideration she thinks, she _hopes_ , were it not for how he shuts it a bit more _firmly_ than necessary.

Rey bites her lips and shoves the impression back that maybe he looked at her a bit _judgy_ just now. As if he somehow blames her for the whole ordeal.

_Can you even be complicit in having a soulmate?_

She groans, rubbing her palms over her eyes, attempting to find some silver lining in this. At least he’s calling his mother. That had always been a challenge, even if Rey has spent the last six years working for her. It made for awkward conversations, even more awkward family dinners, where Ben had refused to show up. 

It’s good they are talking, even if the conversation mostly consists of a heated discussion about their wedding photographer being Rey’s soulmate.

A testament to how riled up he must be after their trip to Finn’s studio.

Actually, Rey can’t recall the last time she’s seen him this agitated. Not since that time they had yelled at each other at Han’s funeral.

The ring burns on her finger. Trying to not let today change anything. Because why would today change anything? This morning, while drinking their morning coffee, they had laughed at a youtube video with a cat getting scared by a cucumber. Things had been good. The way it had always been. She was happy. Ben made her happy.

How come then he's yelling in the kitchen? How come he slammed the door shut? There's a burning pit of shame in her stomach, that she finds herself lacking words, any at all, that can comfort him or fix this? Or interrupt the repeated tapping of his feet or his furiously shaking leg?

_“He’s her soulmate Leia!”_

She flinches at the venom in his voice. How thick the hurt drips off his tongue and he must have almost screamed it with how clearly she hears it through the door. 

Rey swallows, wanting nothing more than to just go back to this morning, to cancel the appointment with Finn as Ben had suggested and let him tease her legs open with his clever tongue. 

It would make things simple. Things easy.

And alleviate the guilt that has settled like a stone in her stomach over how secretly ecstatic she is that she has a soulmate. That she is not alone.

Because she has a _soulmate_.

Someone _who_ is meant for her!

Someone _she_ is meant for too. 

She's not alone.

The door to the yard slams on its hinges. Rey recoils and knows that Ben has left the house to walk off his anger. It’s not the first time he’s done so.

A part of her was always happy that he tried to spare her of his moods, that he understood his own temperament well enough to know when to just leave.

Yet, today it doesn’t feel like the comfort it had been.

Because that means he’s angry. He’s frustrated. And somehow the fact that he’s so agitated that he has to walk it off means he doesn’t trust her, or is happy for her. 

Rey huffs an annoyed breath, making a valiant attempt at not letting him drag her down too. But it does. It digs its way under her skin, itchy and annoying, and carves itself into her chest. Makes her doubt it, makes her -

She’ll let him be. He'll come around eventually. And If he has something to say, he can say it to her face. 

“It’s not my fault,” Rey mutters under her breath. 

She didn’t decide that Finn was her soulmate.

She didn’t decide that she wanted to spark with him.

Didn’t lure and trick Ben for years so she could embarrass him at the right moment.

And yet, he wants to punish her. 

Her hands move on their own, it’s impulsive, and she opens her browser to quickly type in the name “Finn Storm” in the search bar.

There is not a lot of Finn Storms out there, luckily for her, and she recognizes his pearly white grin instantaneously. He’s standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, embracing another man tightly. He looks like someone who people like, who people want to spend time with.

Rey has always wanted to go to Paris.

Ben has never taken her to Paris. And he didn’t want to go again.

_“I went as a kid, it’s a hellish tourist trap. You aren’t missing out on anything.”_

Why does it feel like it then? That she is missing out?

She wonders what Finn makes of the city? He looks nice there. Happy. Like warm sunshine and hearty cuddles. 

But that’s it. 

_Aren’t you supposed to feel more...overwhelmed?_ Rey frowns, attempting to understand what all this soulmate business is about. Shouldn’t it be more - ...I _want_ this person? Or maybe the whole soulmate thing is more a physical experience? You have to be near them to feel it, truly. 

But while she doesn’t feel hot or intensely invested in his Facebook photo, she does have to admit that there’s something about him. Something familiar and nice that she just can’t shake. Like she has always known Finn, that they’d been friends forever. 

But they haven’t. They haven’t even met before today.

Yet, there’s something...

Her hands _slam_ the laptop close and she throws her head back, groaning loudly at no one but herself. Covering her eyes with her palms. 

She hates this day.

****

2015

  
  


“He’s here. Again.” Poe mumbles from beside her at their shared office table, where they are trying to make sense of the post-its Leia asked them to sort through. Having slept badly since Han’s funeral, she understands his words too late. Rey looks up and catches the sulking form of Ben Solo walking from the elevator to his mother’s office. At his arm the same woman he had brought to the wake. Still long-limbed and slender, with perfect blond hair.

It’s the third time this week he’s been here, and this time it’s during lunchtime. Rey frowns, “Has he gotten fired or something?”

Poe stuffs his mouth with a bagel, shrugging, “Who knows. It wouldn’t be the first time. He got fired the first day we had that summer job at an ice cream store.”

“Ice cream store?” She can hardly imagine it. Ben Solo as a brooding pale teenager having to scoop up ice cream on ice cream to sweating, demanding children. It almost makes her want to laugh. The idea is ridiculous and she feels herself smiling into her hand.

She looks up at him, watching him wait patiently for his mother as she instructs Kaydel on a case. His girlfriend is staring down at her phone, uninterested, but he appears to be in better shape than the last time she truly looked at him. That day at the funeral. His face is less worn, the bags under his eyes gone, and his hair looks freshly washed. Black and curling in soft waves. His cup of coffee rests against his pillowy lips, eyes intent and dark. 

\- because he’s staring at her. 

Mortified, Rey crimsons and turns away sharply, grateful that Poe is too distracted to see her being openly gawked at by Ben Solo. 

And oh, how he would tease her if he had seen. Leia’s right hand is notorious for getting things wrong. He would probably think she was checking him out, which Rey really isn’t. 

She isn’t.

Her heart hammers in her chest, afraid of what she’ll do should Ben decide to read her staring as an invitation to talk. What would she even say? The last time she spoke to him, she had called him a monster. A liar. Her cheeks are aflame as she stares down into papers in front of her, looking like someone is trying to set them on fire with her mind.

Not that she regrets it. She told the truth.

But he doesn’t even take a step towards them, something Rey won’t ever admit, made her slightly disappointed. 

She was ready to confront him, to battle it out. 

He doesn’t stop coming back though. For a month he shows up at least twice during a standard workweek, doing god’s knows what. And of course, _she’s_ with him. Always. And Rey hates it.

Detests it.

Because it’s distracting. Will he show up today? Will he not? Is today gonna be the day he tells her mom? Make her fire her. 

Her shoulders are stiff whenever she gets home from sitting tensely at her desk from looking up at the door every five minutes, just in case: waiting and expecting him to show up, only to be inevitably relieved that he didn’t or frustrated with that he’s here. 

And then one day, while she’s leaving work, she runs to the elevator, watching it barely close. “Hold it!” and just making it inside, only to discover -

Ben is inside. 

The doors slide shut behind her, but Rey doesn’t notice, because she is simply just watching him. She’s not even hiding it, frozen at the spot like a deer in headlights. 

But she does notice his lips part, only to close. He swallows.

“Going down?” His voice rumbles against the steel walls.

She nods. The only response she seems capable of in her surprise. He nods in return and reaches over to press the button next to her. This means he has to circle his hand around her, and she can smell him. 

He smells nice. More than nice.

But just as quickly as he’s in her space, he’s out of it. Pressing himself to the side of the elevator, as if he needs to get as far away from her as possible. 

It stings. But Rey doesn’t want to investigate why. 

And why should she? He’s the one who was the bad son to Han. He doesn’t deserve her kindness.

So she goes to stand as far away from him as possible, praying that the elevator ride down the 20 floors will be swift and quickly. 

But as with anything with him, that turns out not to be so easy.

The elevator jumps to a stop, shaking briefly, and then the lights go out. The red emergency light flickers and turns on, bathing them both in a sickly red glow.

Ben pushes himself off the wall immediately, muttering a small “fuck” under his breath, and presses the emergency call button. Several times, hard.

It rings briefly, before a voice comes through the intercom. _“This is Mellissa, how can I help?”_

“Hi. We are stuck between floor seventeen and sixteen. How soon can you get here?”

_“As soon as possible. What building are you in?” -_ to which Ben briefly recites the address - _“I’m sending someone over right away.”_ and the connection ends with a soft click.

Neither says a word, and Rey can’t really see Ben’s expression, but from the way he hunches over, still staring at the call button, she decides that he probably isn’t overtly fond of having her in his space either. 

With a snort, Rey surrenders, slides down the steel wall to sit and crosses her arms over her legs. As soon as possible can be anything. 

Several minutes have probably passed, before he too seems to realise that same thing, and sits down on the floor, but not before giving it a brief inspection for dirt and grime. Not with how expensive his pants probably are. 

To her surprise though, she looks up and finds his eyes unwavering on her form. Like a chess player trying to dissect his opponent, to figure out what kind of puzzle pieces she’s made off. The frown that pulls on the corners of her mouth can’t be helped, and Rey looks away. Not feeling ready for whatever judgement he is currently making of her.

He never voices his opinion though, and for what seems to last an _eternity_ , he finally relents and pulls out his laptop and begins to type away.

Wait? When did he get a job? Wasn’t he fired?

Rey glances at him briefly, taking note of his freshly shaved face, his washed hair, perfectly curling around his ears. Nothing like the man with the sunglasses calling her a child.

And more importantly, Rey realises - something is missing?

It takes her a few moments, and a decent amount of swallows, before her curiosity wins. 

“Your girlfriend is not with you today?”

Without even as much of a flicker of his eyes, he replies, “No. She broke up with me.”

Oh.

Rey grimaces, because of course she’d miss that, as untacky as she is. Without even considering the implications, she blurts, “I’m sorry.”

This time she notices his brows furrow, even though he doesn’t look away from his screen. “It wasn’t serious.”

“Seemed serious to me.” Rey continues, despite knowing she shouldn’t. “You introduced her to your mother.”

“Leia set us up.”

“Ah.” Why does she sound like that? As if it is the most natural thing for a mother to set up her son?

He doesn’t reply, and once more they fall into a heavy silence, stretching on for minutes, heck, it feels like hours - wait, is the break up why he looks tired? Exhausted? 

The words fall from her mouth before she can help it, “I’m sorry. Every break up is hard. Even the non-serious ones.”

This time he pauses - and _looks_ at her. Eyes pitch black. And in a low voice, concludes on her behalf. 

“You think I deserve it.” 

Rey withdraws, sputtering “I...no. I’m not…”

“ _Nevermind_.” 

There’s a groan waiting to be released in her throat, part-mortification, part-frustration, but Rey curbs the need to vocalize her own misery by staring a hole into the elevator ceiling. 

Sometimes she hates how the awkward girl from Jakku insists on breaking her carefully built facade of social competence. Of maturity.

She swallows.

“I don’t think you deserve it.”

“No?” He replies a bit too fast. “I think you _mean_ it.”

Rey blinks, “Why?”

“Why what?” he closes the screen of the laptop with a thud and straightens his spine, like a lion preparing for a battle. 

“Why do you not want me to say I’m sorry?”

“I don’t want you to lie.”

Rey wrinkles her nose. “It’s not a lie …”

“But it wasn’t a lie _then_?” He crosses his arms, the shirt straining over his muscles, a grim expression crossing his face. “ - You meant what you said.”

Ah. So she did hurt him. He was not impenetrable. The thought should soothe her, she thinks, that she managed to stab him in the heart, that he probably lay awake at night tormenting himself over her impression of him - but, as she watches his thunderous, she realises that the thought doesn’t soothe her.

Because she realises one thing - “I don’t know if I meant it.”

Ben sighs as if disappointed, and leans his head back against the steel wall, lost to some memory. 

Boldness, a desire to be liked, appreciated, who knows, but somehow Rey realises something very crucial about Ben Solo. “Do you think you are a monster?”

He hesitates, breath quickening, before announcing, “Yes I do.”

“Do you think you deserved to be broken up with?”

“I think she is allowed to do what she wants to do. I’m not her soulmate.”

_Soulmates_.

Rey pauses for a second, pulling her knees closer to her chest, watching him silently surrender to his own misery. His face is so transparent, every single emotion so clearly on his face as they churn. Regret, relief, pain -

“Did she...find her soulmate?”

“No.” Ben sighs, still avoiding her gaze.

“So...why did she leave?”

He draws a finger through a speck of dirt on the floor in some poor attempt at faking disinterest - “she didn’t want to get too invested with someone who wasn’t her soulmate.” - But Rey sees the hurt. The desperation for someone to talk to. And his own misery knowing that only one who’ll listen is some girl who thinks he’s a monster.

She knows that feeling. 

“Not everyone finds their soulmate.” Rey says “- isn’t only like 15 percent?”

Ben nods, rubbing his palms together, but doesn’t reply.

Rey looks ahead, resting her head on her knees. And maybe it's the grief from Han, still residual in her body, that makes her loosen her tongue. Maybe she wants to give something in return? Equalize this distance between them. He has shared something, but she hasn’t.

And suddenly she finds herself saying -

“When I was a kid. I dreamt that I’d find my soulmate. That there was someone - just for me.” a sigh “- that I wasn’t alone.” -

She sees him grimace involuntarily at her words, but he doesn’t interrupt.

\- “but...no one showed up. And then I met Han, and Leia - and they weren’t soulmates. But they seemed...happy...content - And...maybe. I don’t know.”

Rey continues. “It just seems dumb to miss out on good things in life because you could potentially meet your soulmate. Even if you feel...alone. Like no one understands you.” Her voice shakes a bit at the end. Has she ever really told anyone that? 

“Do you feel alone?” He inquires after a pause, intent on not looking at her. Which is fine, because she’s not sure she can look at him either. 

“I do.” The confession roles easily off her tongue “Even if I’m surrounded by people, I sometimes feel ...so alone.”

“You aren’t.”

“I’m not what?”

“Alone.”

The sheer surprise that he would say something so comforting, makes her really look at him, in fact, she finds herself locking eyes with him. But there’s no hostility, no sarcasm to be found. Just….sincerity. Almost as if he knows…

“Neither are you.” Rey says determined. 

His eyes darken at her words, whether from distrust - or something else - but he won’t stop looking. It’s as if he’s seeing her truly for the first time, their souls recognising something in each other.

Suddenly everything changes in the room. What was a tense awkward silence, becomes pregnant with something...different. It scares her, elevates her. 

Ben licks his lips, draws in a deep breath that stretches his whole chest, and then, opens his mouth -

_DING!_ the panel on the elevator goes first, before the metal cylinder shakes, turning on the lights, and once more begins the slow descent to the ground. 

She should check the time, she should get up from the floor, but she can’t. His words are lost to the moment, but his eyes are so dark, so brown, and they shimmer with stars in the fluorescent light of the elevator.

And he looks at her like she’s the answer to a question he has asked in a long time, a longing that has never been cleansed. It’s intense, overwhelming, it has never felt like this. 

Rey feels that she should run, she should get the hell out of here and never look back. Because whatever lies behind that gaze can only be heartache, only be suffering.

He supports himself on one knee and slowly rises. His eyes unwavering on hers and then -

\- he extends his hand towards her, palm up in invitation.

The floors ping somewhere in the background, a strange countdown to some destination that neither can possible imagine.

And yet, the question, the one that has maddened her for the past few weeks comes back in full force. Because...could he be?

Would it be so bad?

Her hands tremble as she flexes her fingers and reaches out -

And meets nothing but warm smooth skin. 

No spark. _Nothing_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Waves knife * Shoo! Shoo! If you don't like it, then don't read it!
> 
> I'm gonna try to update every Friday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna get so fucking canceled over this.
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!

****

2020

Wher are you?  
  
Its Saturday? Did you go to work?  
  


Rey stares at the screen of her phone as she passes the kitchen, biting her nails while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. 

Ben went to bed before her and had obviously risen before dawn, because he wasn’t there when she went for her morning run. Perhaps he had gone to the gym to work off some steam? But now it’s 10 am and no word or sign of him anywhere.

Did he...leave?

Is he giving her space to...leave?

It was supposed to be an exciting Saturday, one of the few rare ones before their wedding in January. When they actually had no plans and could just enjoy each other and have fun. Rey had wanted to go for brunch at this new coffee place a few blocks down. 

But now the house is just empty...and tense.

Should she call him? Did he get hurt somewhere? Would Leia know?

Rey tries her best to swallow down the concern, and sits down at the kitchen table to browse her Pinterest for wedding accessories and decor, picking out a few items that she likes. Ben isn’t the type to let her worry and he knows how to defend himself, which is reassuring to some degree. However, it is hard to ignore the stinging, prickling sensation in her stomach. The feeling that something is off, there’s something wrong. 

The white dress hanging on the back of the door feels ominous now, rather than comforting. She snorts at it and takes out her phone to call him. Winning the argument hardly seems important if he’s missing, if he’s hurt. 

It rings five times, before going to voicemail. She huffs a bitter breath and presses the red phone button and begins to type.

Hi! Whre r u? Please tell me u are alright?  


She waits a few moments, expecting a message to come at any moment. Yet, nothing happens and with a somewhat unstable mood, she places the phone back down. Rey sighs and tries to distract herself by sipping from her lukewarm coffee, as she watches the leaves fall and gather on the autumn grass.

There is no bling or flashing button, yet she checks her phone anyhow.

No messages.

She frowns, turns it over, so the screen faces down like some weird punishment, and returns to looking at her laptop. Despite the lack of ring, she keeps on flipping the phone over and over, checking it for non-existent answers. 

It’s not like Ben to not reply. Or at least he’ll write he’s busy and it’s been - she looks at the time stamp - at least 30 minutes. 

Her fingers tap against the wooden surface of the kitchen table, the images on Pinterest blurring as her thoughts begin to get increasingly frantic. Maybe he’s just in a meeting? Perhaps he forgot his phone at home? Maybe he - he -

The phone plings, and she frantically grasps it, turning it over, only to see an unknown number.

Unknown  
Hi!  


She frowns, prepared to block it when-

  
Unknown  
It’s me! Finn. Finn Storm!  
  
I’m sorry if this comes off too strong!  
  
Also Ii’m using your personal information withou your consent  
  
Sorry about that!  


Her fingers move on her own accord.

  
Hi!  
  
No it’s fine!   
  
I thought about texting you too!  
  
So Weird right? XD  
  
Unknown  
Are you guys okay?  
  
We’ll be!   
  
I think Ben’s a bit shocked.  
  
Maybe the wedding is stressing him out too.  
  
Unknown  
Oh, for sure, I’d be stressed about that too if I were you!  
  
I was thinking, btw!  
  
That maybe it’d be good to get to know each other?  
  
If you want to?  


Rey leans back in her chair, pulling her legs to her chest with a small smile. Ben would never send her a gif, and never anything related to The Office, which he hates with a passion. The British version is better, he keeps telling her. American humour is so dumbed down, doesn’t understand the finer finesse of dark humour. She can almost hear him say it. 

Pulling up the gif tool, Rey giddily through the bottom bar until she finds the right one and -

Ben <3   
Sorry. Yes I’m at work.  
  


She blinks, surprised to see his reply all of a sudden and huffs a calming breath before typing.

On a Saturday?  
  
Ben <3   
Something came up.  
  
I thought we were supposed to go to shopping for cheap booze for the wedding? Get wasted!   
  


A pause. The three dots disappearing and reappearing. Rey bites her nails and furrows her brows at the LED screen. Watching Ben change his mind over and over again.

Ben <3   
Are you sure it’s the right thing to do right now? Maybe we should postpone the wedding for a bit.   
  


Her hands freeze, as she watches Ben’s text pop and slides down from the top of the screen. His words are only written, yet they stab into her chest, making her breath stutter for just a second.

_ Maybe Ben didn’t want - _

No. No. She won’t go there. They are fine. It's good. Nothing has changed.

She spitefully flips the message to the side and angrily types the words into Finn’s text message. 

I would love to!   
  
We could go to one of these intro-soulmates-things?   
  
I don’t really know how to be a soulmate, would be good with some 101.   
  
Unknown  
Awesome! Give me your info and I’ll see what dates that are available.  
  


She changes Finn’s name from Unknown to the emoji of a  _ ghost _ . It is the closest thing that resembles a soul. She giggles at it and sends him her info and closes down the Pinterest folders, their wedding suddenly a bitter and returns to preparing her lunch. 

She doesn’t reply to Ben’s message or picks up when he seems to have crawled out of his cowardly work cave to call her shortly after 1 pm.

It feels good to do so. To let him feel her childish anger for even suggesting they should postpone the wedding. She is not having doubts!  _ And _ she is the one with the soulmate. If anything, she has only been understanding of him. Her having a soulmate doesn’t change anything. Not for her. It’s not like he’s tried to be understanding how she must feel!

Yet, the moment the front door opens, she does wonder if ignoring his call was the right move.

She slams the laptop shut and moves to catch a glimpse of him through the door. His shoulders are slouched and he struggles to sluggishly take off his shoes - is he drunk? It’s hard to tell, his damp hair could easily have been from the rain as it could’ve been from sweating in a bar

Rey frowns. Guilt tugging at her chest. 

“Are you okay?” she asks cautiously, and sits up even further. Her heart hammers away like it is going a million miles per hour. 

He sighs, shrugging his shoulder in reply, “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Do you want to order in? We could watch a movie together?”

He merely glances at her. Like an unintentional pause before he seems to think better of himself.

“I don’t know, Rey.” Defeat strains his voice.

But why? Rey desperately wonders. However, before she can even ask, the stairs creak under his weight. Each step he takes a noisy reminder of the growing distance between them.

It is only Rey’s pure unadulterated stubbornness that prevents her from chasing after him or letting the tears spill from her eyes.

  
  


****

2015

  
  


Red. 

Blue. 

Red. 

Blue. 

Red. 

Blue. 

It must be a police car, Rey absentmindedly concludes, as she watches her ceiling change color by the blink of an eye. It’s dizzying, the spinning light the only thing illuminating her room. She could turn on the lamp next to her bed, but somehow, when she had stumbled through the door, she couldn’t bear the thought of flipping the switch. It would make things real. Too normal.

And what would she see in the mirror? What harsh normalcy would she encounter? The reality that she is nothing more than a simple naive child? Someone who honestly thought that - that -

Rey sighs and throws herself down on her bed, shoes and coat still on, turning so she is facing the ceiling, her feet still firmly planted on the floors still. It’s silent, even with all the noise in her head and the yelling outside. It must be a couple in the building across from hers. A domestic spat, live for her neighbours to watch and judge. Even if the words are blurred. 

Heck, Rey would’ve joined on any other day. Human curiosity and all.

However, today,  _ tonight _ , she can’t be bothered, even if all it required her to turn over and face the window.

Because -

_ “What the fuck.”  _

She wants to shout it, but it comes out as a whisper.

With trembling hands, she clutches at her fingers. They burn hot, a distinct numbness to them, despite the weather being quite mild for December. She knows the feeling in her hand is an illusion, just pretend, her brain trying to make connections where there are none, her brain going through the events of the elevator over and over again. Because maybe there was a spark? A small one. So small it could hardly be felt.

But who is she kidding? The world is obsessed with soulmates. It is well documented that there is a spark. It’s bright and physical. Movies and books may have exaggerated it, but Rey has been lucky enough to witness a couple find each other back in Jakku. The visual memory of a brief sudden chance touch, and the bright flicker of light between their fingers that will always haunt her. 

What would’ve happened though, her brain insists on imagining, if her and Ben had sparked in that moment?

Would he have grasped her hand tightly? Leaned in, lips hovering above hers, as he searched her eyes for an answer, but realized he wouldn’t need to ask. Because they had sparked. Would he press her up against the steel frame? Slam the emergency button and just -

“ _Oh my god_.” Rey shouts this time into the dark room. 

What is  _ wrong _ with her?

Why is she lying in the darkness all alone on a Friday night thinking about an awkward elevator ride with her boss’s son!? Why is she acting like her entire world has come crashing down like a pathetic high school girl!? Why?

She sighs, digging her fingers into the palm of her hand, her brain shuffling between all of her self-deeming thoughts as it has done a hundred times. And yet, all she keeps asking is -

_ Why him? Why him? Why him? _

Why does it feel like her heart is weeping for their lack of spark? She doesn’t even like him! He’s mean! And overconfident and - 

Maybe all of this, these -  _ confusing thoughts _ \- maybe she’s just -

\- horny?

An exasperated, almost  _ maniacal _ , laugh leaves her lips. 

Of course. Of course!

It all makes sense now. 

Relief floods her body, as she starts to track her mental calendar. She hadn’t touched herself since Han had died. The suddenness and the grief exhausting her to a point of self-neglect. Especially in terms of being  _ kind _ to herself. What has it been? A month?

Longer than it has ever been. Her vibrator’s probably all dusty in her drawer. And it’ll be a waste of mental energy to try and deny that Ben Solo is an attractive man - in a strange sort of way. His face is too long, features too exaggerated to a point where it shouldn’t incite these warm tender feelings inside her, in particular in her lower body. But it does. 

He’s simply the unintentional subject of her body’s need for intimacy and release.

And almost as soon as she realises that, a reverie emerges - quite unprompted. Him opening the door to discover her lying on her lumpy scratchy scavenged mattress. Him placing a knee on either side of her stomach - dipping the bed under his weight. He’d watch her intently, taking her in. The same way he had stared at her before she took his hand, eyes dark, pupils blown wide.

It’s a surprisingly vanilla thought, considering what she usually imagines to get her cunt this hot, this fast - but there’s something else, something that suggests it might not be entirely just ... _ that _ .

The reverie transforms slowly, gliding in and out of lazy thoughts, and just as easily as she can imagine him pound into her from behind - pushing her face into the mattress, whispering obscene dirty words - she can also just imagine him lying next to her, his deep low voice telling her stories of his childhood, his thoughts on the sausage brands for all she care - and she’d be equally content. 

Okay. So she’s horny.  _ And _ lonely. 

With a determined, frustrated huff, Rey sits up fully on her bed. The springs creaking the only sound in the room, since the shouting outside has stopped, and the lights from the police car now off into some unknown place, cladding her one-bedroom apartment in nothing but darkness.

Rey fumbles with her phone, trying to unlock it with some uncanny desperation. But she knows if she keeps lying down in bed, her fingers will trail down the edge of her panties and he will be the subject of her fantasies. And god, that’d just be taking it a step too far. So, with trembling fingers, she swipes the password and lets the cracked screen fracture its blue light on her face, and she wonders what she’ll look like? Young and naive, or worn down to the bone? 

Her finger linger over the short list of notifications with an unusual patience, as if all of them have become far more important,  _ crucial _ even - Emails that could easily be postponed till tomorrow are answered meticulously and social media messages about remembering some long forgotten acquaintance birthday are addressed with unusual care. . 

She types in a few responses to tags on videos and scrolls down her Facebook, briefly considering playing some mind numbing game, before she eventually just collapses into a dream, worn out mentally and physically, when a message suddenly appears.

_B.Solo has liked your (...)_

B.Solo, is that…?

Rey presses the notification almost as soon as she sees it, opening up a photo from a few months back, from when she had just started at Leia’s firm. It’s her in a sundress. Leia took it, and had begged Rey to post it on her Instagram. 

_Oh._

Did he -?

She taps at the heart logo, scrolling through the meager likes given to her, but finds his handle nowhere amongst them. Strange. Must’ve been a mistake. 

Chastised, she presses the phone against her forehead, wanting to scream. Did she imagine it? The notification? It seems a bit too cruel of destiny to taunt her so. Does it know how many times she has thought of how his plump lips parted as she had confessed her hurt to him? His perfectly coiffed hair.

But she had seen his handle. Who else is named B.Solo? She can’t have made up some anagram of his name in some depressive fever dream?

Curiosity getting the better of her, she types in the handle as she remembers it, and finds what is unmistakably Ben’s profile.

It’s ...his. For sure.

~~~~

~~~~

Her fingers hover above the follow button.

“Don’t do it.” She whispers to herself, and to all her invented excuses for pressing it. To invite herself into his life. 

It’s foolish. He’s a decade older, the son of her boss, she called him a fucking monster, and he just got broken up with because he wasn’t someone’s soulmate. 

Okay. So she’s horny. lonely.  _ And _ a bitch.

He doesn’t need her to interfere in his life. He has enough on his plate and honestly, it can’t be more than a few days since his girlfriend left him. 

Rey can maybe be tough and stubborn, but she is not  _ cruel _ . He does not deserve being her respite, the subject made to fill her loneliness, until she finds something or somene else to fill the void. To scratch the itch. 

And it doesn’t matter if he  _ maybe _ liked her photo.

But then -

_B.Solo follows you on Instagram. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Situation-normal](https://twitter.com/sitdoodles) for your terrible benign photos for Ben's instagram!
> 
> The Instagram isn't accurate looking, but as accurate as I could be bothered!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna get so fucking canceled over this.
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> BUT MOSTLY THANK YOU [Slipgoingunder](https://twitter.com/slipgoingunderl) for your wonderful work on the forum discussions. It would not have been the same if I had written it myself!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 4

****

2020

  
  


It’s November, a season of gray skies and more rain showers than what is good for the human soul. It had been a perfect setting for her and Ben’s disastrous weekend with him occupying himself in some blatant display of avoiding her and Rey too stubborn and hurt to try and mend the rift. 

He had fallen asleep next to her though, embraced her as he had always done, albeit a little tighter than usual, but that had just made her unable to sleep. Too many thoughts rushed through her head, guilt and elevation, tears burning in her eyes, while her heart was full. 

So, it is extremely fitting that today was the first day since forever that the sun is out. Shining bright and hot in the sky, warming her through her thick winter coat.

And it sucks. 

It sucks that she feels over the moon, content, and yet not. There’s something daunting about this. Her hand still buzzes, a pleasant tingling that reminds her every single second about what has happened. It feels so different from what she imagined it would - and she almost wants to laugh at how younger Rey had kept thought the buzzing in her hand following her hand touch with Ben in the elevator was even comparable.

The exact same elevator she is currently taking to the office. Where she works. With his mother.

Rey groans into her hand, having debated calling in sick, but she knows that would just make Leia ask too many questions, even show up at their house to help. 

And Leia trying to help is the last thing Ben needs right now. It’s complicated enough and having his mother there will just have him close himself up. More so than he does now.

Maybe she could cook - no...he’d hate that … she could drive by his favorite take out place from her way back to work. Pick up all of his favorites and make it all nice. Hell, she’ll even submit and watch that pretentious black white movie he has talked about lately. 

Show him that they haven’t lost everything good there were.

Yes.

She’ll do that.

Determined, convinced, that she can - will - improve this, she marches out of the elevator and into the office, head held high. Ready to let things go back to normal! 

But the second she opens the glass door into the open office space, a voice calls from the furthest corner -

“Rey. Can you step in here for a moment!”

Leia. 

“Bring coffee.”

It’s been years since she was Leia’s assistant, having been promoted to project-assistant instead, but it comes as natural as breathing for her to pour her coffee the way she likes it, a bit oversweet and three cups of espresso, which really isn’t healthy at all. She knows better not to say though. It’s a rhythm she knows and appreciates.

The cup almost spills when she enters the office, because Leia immediately pulls at Rey’s hand and looks at the engagement ring.

“Good. I was worried he had gone and done something stupid.”

“Leia -”

“Your wedding photographer.” The older woman hums and snatches the cup from Rey’s hands and sips. “The irony doesn’t fail to make me impressed.”

Rey flattens her lips, unsure of what to even say. Her boss acts as if things are resolved, when they are in fact very much not. She’s not even sure it’s broken - yet. 

With a distracted hand, her soon to be mother-in-law gestures for her to sit down, and she takes her seat the same way she has always done, crossing her legs, while gazing out the big glass pane windows. It reminds her of that night during the Christmas party…

“So what happens now?” Leia asks, always cutting straight to the chase, but this time Rey is not even sure what her end goal is. 

“I don’t know.” Rey shrugs. “One day at a time I guess.”

“Good. I think that’s the right approach. Ben isn’t…” The coffee slurps against Leia’s reddened lips, as she studies Rey through the reading glasses she insists are only for show, before sighing. “I’m surprised.”

“About what?”

“I always knew you were loyal to a fault. But after I met up with Ben this weekend I wasn’t sure I'd even see you today.”

Rey frowns. “What do you mean?”

Leia moves her jaw, finding her words. Her fingers tap against the side of the coffee cup. “I’ve always thought you were too young when he proposed - and him...it was fast. He throws himself so wholeheartedly at every task. I was …” She sighs. “There’s nothing to be done about that now.”

The older woman moves from the side of her desk and goes to sit down in the chair next to her. And there’s a contradictory thing about Leia that Rey has never failed to not appreciate, her seriousness and frankness is neither cold nor mean, it feels warm and caring. However cruel the words can seem, she feels the love behind them. How much she matters. She feels it in how Leia’s polished hand reaches over to grasp at Rey’s, in the way she rubs her thumbs over her knuckles.

“I want you to remember that you are more than my son’s fiance. Promise me to remember that.”

Rey blinks at Leia, her hand feels clammy against hers, and there are so many things she wants to say, too many things she wants to know - what had Ben even told her? When had they been meeting?! But she can’t force out any of the questions, because how would she even begin. And it’s really hard to want to come to the bottom of this, when Rey can’t read Leia’s intentions - if she is comforting her or...

The tears are almost a given if she speaks, so Rey sticks to just nodding. And with a bit more rush than necessary she bids her goodbye and goes to her desk. 

Poe hasn’t shown up and for once that isn’t an intense source of annoyance on Rey’s part, so she takes up on the liberty that her desk is hidden from Leia’s view and hides her face in her hands. Desperate to settle her breathing. All laboured and uneven. 

“Fuck.”

Why is everyone treating this like it’s the end of the world? Rey doesn’t even know Finn! Yet everyone assumes she is all ready to leave Ben on a soulmate’s promise. 

Do people expect her to meet her soulmate and then just go,  _ well bye!? _ Finn was chosen for her, made for her, that’s true! It would be a waste not to get to know him. But that doesn’t make all the wonderful things she had with Ben has been in vain! Doesn’t mean...they are ...

She turns on her computer with a hard push of the button, and as soon as the can open the browser, she frantically types in the search bar 

Google

What to do when you find your soulmate, but you’re already in a committed relationship?

The results pile up, and with an uncaring hand she presses on the first forum option it gives her. 

Rey huffs, finding no comfort or anything relatable. They made it seem easy to just leave their existing partner, or their questions were wildly off what she was secretly looking for. 

She presses a random question that seems somewhat close to her dilemma….

_ What the hell? _

It’s a struggle, her churning emotions warring between comfort and resentment, between making up and she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.

Just as quickly as she presses it, she throws herself into another question, but this one...

“Hi there Rey, how was your weekend?” Poe speaks suddenly from opposite her, making her jump!

She turns the screen, which should be a hint enough for Poe that she’s up to no good, but for once he doesn’t take it as an invitation to pry.

“Good.” The lie rolls off her tongue easily, “you?”

“Nothing much, went to a party. It was pretty boring.” He grins, but the hickies on his neck say otherwise.

Shaking her head, Rey closes down the browser and begins working in silence. She isn’t in the mood for hearing about Poe’s conquests - not now at least.

And as the hours pass, her mood even begins to improve, especially when Rose shows up with donuts glazed with her favorite topping. She might even say she’s happy when she leaves the office early to drive by the takeaway place, hope brimming at the edges of her being.

However, as she steps across the threshold of their house, she finds it dark and empty, no sign of Ben and when she calls him on the phone, he doesn’t answer - again. She gives him a few hours, but at 9 pm she relents and eats, her stomach too insistent over her pride but she can barely swallow three bites.

He doesn’t show up until long after she’s cried herself to sleep, snaking his arms around her body. Whispering  _ I’m sorry’s _ and thank you’s for bringing him  _ food _ against her temple. And only when he kisses her on the cheek, does she turn around and return his embrace.

  
  
  


****

2015

  
  


It’s not snowing. Not yet at least. But the sky outside looms with potential, the air crisp and cold. And while it’s not the first time Rey has seen snow, the novelty of it never fails. Especially from the height of Leia’s office, which overlooks the streets from below and almost - almost - feel like it is touching the sky.

Rey takes a sip from her cup of Fanta - filled with ice and some kind of sweet red grenadine, at Poe’s behest - because just because someone had to stay sober while the rest of the party goers got shit faced, didn’t mean she couldn’t have a fancy drink.

The music is still ambient, but any moment now someone will stumble over to the DJ and request a change of scenery. Rey turns her head over her shoulder, and takes in the scene before her.

She’s been in the office a few months by now, almost a year and by now she recognizes almost all her coworkers. But this is a Leia Organa part, which means that the majority of the crowd are all unfamiliar faces. 

It never fails to impress her how many people Leia Organa knows and how many she seems on extremely good and friendly terms with.

Rey swirls the red and yellow mixture in her hand, casually observing Poe who seems to be her only somewhat friend in the city, even if she struggles to get along with him, even on the best of days.

He’s too social for her, she concludes, watching him joking at a stranger, all dressed up in a weird santa costume, that looks itchy, even from this distance. And maybe it’s the Christmas decorations, the food, the fact that is her first proper party - since ever - but she’s suddenly grateful that she knows him. That she knows Leia. 

Even if things are very much on awkward terms with her son.

Not that they hadn’t ever been more than just terrible acquaintances - but ever since the elevator, their dynamic had clearly changed. Even Leia had halfheartedly remarked on it - “Are you and Ben in a fight I don’t know about?” - but they weren’t, she could honestly confess. 

What had changed? Had to say. They didn’t talk as usual, he hadn’t tried to contact her through Instagram and had neither liked her posts (not even the one where her cleavage had dipped, just a bit) and she hadn’t followed him back. Her thoughts of him naked in her bed had even passed, after she had bought that new vibrator. It was a phase. Nothing unusual, nothing to remark on.

Yet, something had. Because she finds herself looking for him in the crowd, spying at every parting in the crowd for him in the far corner. 

And she knows he’s here. Forced himself into some kind of social hiding by the bathroom. It’s hard to tell, because she only caught a glimpse of him once, when the crowd parted just enough for them to lock eyes. 

It was ridiculous. He had stared at her like a frightened deer, cautious and afraid. And then a group of people had blocked her view. 

And now he’s probably left the building, only kind enough to his mother to stay for half an hour as a mandatory social call.

“Fucking hell,” Rey mutters to herself, and gulps the Fanta down. The fizziness buzzing in her mouth, in her stomach. 

Blowing a frustrated breath of air, she turns her face away from the crowds and to the streets to focus on something else, someone else.

And then.

“Hi.” A young female voice cautiously goes next to her. Rey whips her head up, starting a short cute girl, her black hair tied into two cute pigtails with ribbons with a snowflake pattern. Her smile is hesitant, but bright, and she bravely extends her hand.

“Rose. You’re Rey right? I just started a week ago and I’m trying to get to know people.”

Rey blinks, apparently having entirely missed that change in the office (She had been distracted, she excuses herself), and returns the gesture, shaking the girl’s hand. 

“Yeah. I’m Rey Niima. Leia’s assistant. And you are?”

“I’m an intern in the  technical department.” Rose goes to stand beside her, mimicking her looking down on the streets below. “I’m majoring in  engineering . And I’m lucky enough to get this opportunity.”

Something bitter swells in Rey’s stomach. “Oh. Well. This is a good company. It’s a good opportunity.”

Rose’s cheeks dimple, pride exsupering from her body “Yeah. It’s the first good thing...” A pause. “What about you? Where do you study?” she asks with such assumed earnestness that Rey doesn’t even know what to say. 

“I-”

“Rose!” Poe calls from behind them, waving excitedly, as he seems to be pushing a few of their office tables together. “Beer pong! Get your ass over here.”

Shyly, appearing genuinely apologetic, Rose grimaces. “I guess I don’t have a choice,” she sighs, and with a soft hand gesture half runs to where Poe is standing.

He didn’t even ask Rey.

The room is suffocating. 

Too hot.

She has to get air, Rey concludes, and empties her cup swiftly and marches towards the staircases. The roof, yes. Air. It’s closer than the exit and it’ll be empty probably. Devoid of what it is she doesn’t know how to do right down here in this stupid office.

The metal door slams on his hinges as she half runs up the backstairs. The two levels to the uninspiring top of the building speed by and when she throws open the door, the cold air is like a tonic. Refreshing and head-clearing. 

She stares ahead, the city skyline like glittering stars ahead - and just then a small snowflake falls and lands on her nose. 

The rooftop is empty, devoid of people, and the snow falls softly on the concrete below. It’s cold enough for it not to melt, and Rey can’t help it. She extends her hand, palm up and lets it fall on her warm skin. 

It sticks, then slowly it disappears, melting into the calluses of her fingers and palm.

And then she sees him, the light of his cigarette like a beacon in the night. He’s standing still, perfectly still, as if she spooked him. 

Rey swallows. 

So that’s where he went.

Should she say something? Should she leave? With a trembling hand, she clutches her sweater tighter around her body. Completely unprepared for stepping out into a December night. And a part of her dreads this. 

What if he’s drunk? 

What if he’s  _ not _ ?

He raises his hand, the one she had touched, and -  _ waves _ . 

It is so unusual. So absurd, that it makes her unintentionally chuckle under her breath. And without pause steps towards him. Like he caught her with a fishing line and is drawing her in. 

Except he just stands there passively, cigarette burning away in his hand, as the snow crunches on her shoes. 

He doesn’t say anything, not even when she stops next to him and looks down over the railing, watching the Christmas lights reflecting in the panes of glass below them, like a galaxy. 

“Good spot you’ve found.” Rey tries to sound casual, pulling at the hem of her dress.

He doesn’t make any attempt at replying. In fact, he doesn’t even take a drag of his cigarette. He just - keeps looking at her. Expression stuck somewhere between a frown and surprise. 

His misplaced reaction makes her cheeks burn - he must think her young and pathetic? Inexperienced. And she isn’t. Far from. After all, there’s only so much you can do in the desert and maybe, just maybe, one...or someone had been the one meant for her. (They hadn’t).

Suddenly shy, she tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear, while gracelessly peeking up at him from her spot next to him. They even don’t stand close, not by any means, but somehow she can feel his warmth, like a safe furnace in the night. 

Finally, with a swallow, he looks down at the ground below too and hoarsely replies. “It’s a quiet one.” 

He takes a drag from the cigarette.

The sirens of an ambulance echo through the street, and from somewhere down below, the bass from the speakers is softly felt. It vibrates no tune she knows, but Rey can’t help but rock against the sound. Feeling a bit awkward, on thin ice, needing to move to -

“How have you been?” She hears herself ask, while drawing a smiley face in the freshly fallen snow on the railing. 

He exhales the smoke, and nods his head while shaking his shoulders. “Okay, I guess.” 

“Good.” Rey says, smiling a small smile.

He watches her fingers draw the small simple figure, only for his gaze to trail up her hand and to her face. She pretends not to notice. Pretends it prickles her skin.

“How are you?” He asks.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she half confesses. “Haven’t slept great since the funeral.”

Nodding, Ben takes a final drag of his cigarette, breathing an “ _I see, “_ while he crushes a few of the snowflakes under his thumb and finger, and with practise, flicks off the bud from the roof. Letting it fall into the sky, to some great unknown. 

“How are you sleeping?” She can’t stop herself from asking, leaning ever so closer to watch his face. 

“I have my ways of numbing things.” 

The way he says it makes her spine grow cold, and her palm burn. The memory of his hands against hers so clearly all of a sudden. As if it weren’t weeks ago, but just a few precious moments. 

“I wish you didn’t have to.” it comes out as an awkward laugh, and she rubs her forearms. “Nothing good comes of that.”

“You say it like you know it.”

“I do.” But there’s no point at telling him about those lonely nights in a caravan waiting for her parents to come back, and when they did they reeked. Like the rest of the hopeless inhabitants of Jakku. A lesson you have to learn early to survive in a place like that. Rey moves her jaw, trying to maintain her cheery demeanor. “I’m not a child you know.”

“I know.” 

He states it like an irrefutable fact, despite himself accusing her of that crime. But it had been a horrible day, no one had behaved their best - not even her. 

Her cheeks burn - “I’m sorry. I - I don’t know why I always try to fight you.”

Something akin to a chuckle escapes his throat, as he softly says, “Everyone tries to fight me. You’re not different.”

“I guess not.” Rey ponders, because even now she is unsure of whether she is fascinated with him or intensely annoyed. “You are pretty fightable.”

“Fightable?” He asks, on the verge of being earnestly humoured.

“You have that aura -” Her hands gesture up and down the length of his body, trying to add to her words “- of intolerable.” 

The beginning of a smile tugs at his lips, “You find me  _ intolerable _ ?”

“I know I could beat you in a fight,” she says in her most serious tone, but she feels it too, how her teeth involuntary bars into a taunting grin. 

“Could you now?” Ben deadpans, his cheeks dimpling. 

“What, you think I couldn’t? A desert girl like me? I’ve knocked out guys larger than you.”

“I doubt it.”

Chest puffed, Rey draws up her chin, pouting. “I knocked out Poe once.” 

Although that had been a happy accident where Poe had accidentally been standing behind a door, she opened with a bit too much force. But still, it’s not a lie.

“Haven’t we all?” he replies dryly, with his smile close-lipped.

Rey wonders what it would look like if he truly smiles. Teeth and all - but wait - what does he - “Have you?”

“What?”

“Punched him?”

A true, very unexpected (albeit timid) laugh escapes him, “He won’t like me saying.”

“So you did!” Rey leans forward, and peers up at him, as he tries to hide his face, as if he has been caught red handed. 

“I’m already enough in trouble,” he states simply, hiding his mouth with the palm of hand. His shoulders are trembling, as if he’s trying to hold in the laughter.

Still grinning, Rey asks “What  _ kind _ of trouble?”

His eyes crinkle at first, but then as if remembering something, he slowly falls silent. 

Is he in---real trouble? Rey suddenly crows concerned, furrowing her brows, as she as carefully as possible asks.

“Is it...illegal?”

“No.” He sighs, shoulders deflating. “Rey - You should be  _ downstairs _ .” 

Downstairs? Where the people who think they know her are? The ones that ignore her? Favour new more interesting people over her?

“Why?”

“Firstly - you aren’t wearing a jacket.” S swallow, his Adam’s apple moving. “And you really shouldn’t be spending your night with someone like  _ me _ .”

She blinks. Confused - and then - oh God -

“I...I’m not! Do you think I'm propositioning you?” Her face burns. “Sorry.”

He waves his hand in mild panic, stepping a bit closer, reaching out for her. “No, no. I got it. I didn’t think -”

Rey pulls away. “I’m sorry! You are Leia’s son. I shouldn’t have.”

“I know.”

“You... _ know _ ?” About her dreams? Her prickling hand? Does he know how frustrated he makes her? How he is the only thing on her mind - does he? Does he feel -

“Yeah.” He looks away, rubbing his shoes against the snow. But instead of looking elated, his eyes become downcast and he sighs a shaking breath, as if he’s...disappointed. Yet, there’s a harshness to it, like - like - “Why should you proposition me at all?”

It dawns on her. Right then and there, that despite her obvious attention, that he isn’t a man who thinks highly about himself. A man who doesn’t care what people think of him, because he will always think worse of himself.

But he’s funny and...underneath it all, she sees the glimmer of kindness, of hope and love. A man who feels too much, too sudden and -

“It hurt you. Didn’t it?” Rey asks before she gets too scared and takes a small step closer, so she has to look up to catch his eyes “That she left because you weren't her soulmate.”

Rey’s many foster parents have always complained that she’s impatient, a sayer over being a thinker, rash to the point of being destructive. So she expects him to lash out, to tell her she’s wrong for thinking she knows him, or to stay out of it.

But he doesn’t. Contrary to anyone who she has ever met, he instead goes completely still, his eyes unwavering on hers, wide and dark. Like a man terrified by what he sees, gaze searching intensely for something in hers - an answer, a clue. His breathing becomes harsh and laboured. 

It makes her heart weep, to watch him fight his inner hurt. Like she does. And maybe he too struggles with never having earned the safety of another person's heart. Struggling with a reality where love is a currency, a porous fragile thing that no one can depend on - and knowing as long as they are not your soulmate, you can never trust that love, their words.

But gosh, you want to.

So she kisses him. 

She pushes up on her toes and yanks him down by the shirt, before crushing her mouth to his, slightly off center. His lips are cold, damp from the snow, but she couldn’t care less.

Rey hasn’t kissed a lot of people. She has never felt the urge to do so. With the bad breath, nose bumping and clanking teeth. The appeal of it was limited, and sometimes it was...too close. Too close to her face, too close to some intimate part of herself.

But she has kissed enough people to know that usually … people kiss back.

His shoulders are stiff underneath her hands and his nose doesn’t blow warm air on her cheek - and how his lips, albeit soft, remain still. 

Oh God. 

_ Shit _ .

Rey pulls away as soon as she realises his unwillingness to reciprocate, releasing her grip on his shirt, while she scrambles back, one foot slipping on the snow. She grasps at the railing and looks back up at him in horror.

Needy. Naive. Too rash for her own good.

Ben’s expression is hard to pin down. His mouth is parted, his eyes are wide. He looks ...confused? Angry?

God. She’s so desperate. So out of tune with people to even read the room! That he didn’t feel the same. 

It hits her like a sour cocktail to her stomach. Bitter and acidic. Clearly, he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings, or else he would have kissed her back. And what are her feelings even to begin with!?

Because, she had thought -

\- what had she thought actually?

Rey opens her mouth, an apology probably on the tip of her tongue -

\- When the metal door to the roof  _ slams _ open behind them. 

Rey flinches, grasping the freezing railing, and turns around to see a group of people drunkenly laugh. She thinks she sees Ben glare at them too. But she refuses to look at him, refuses to dignify her mistake.

Thus, with her courage failing her, Rey uses the distraction to turn around and run towards the stairwell, cheeks burning and chest heaving.

But as she reaches out for the handle on the door, it slams up and into her face.

And then it just goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horsenet is based on a Danish real life website [Hestenettet](https://www.heste-nettet.dk/). Hestenettet is a forum for horseowners, but everything, everything is discussed on there. So in DK it’s a running joke that if you can’t find anything online, go look on Hestenettet! 
> 
> I based my forum pieces (more like ripped it from them) on the website itself, and I’m quite satisfied in how it came out. A few reylos are hidden amongst the authors, so try and see how many you can find! :-3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've debated whether or not I should post this chapter, considering everything that is happening in the world right now. But I decided that maybe some people need a five-minute break.
> 
> With that said, if you are like me, not an American, here's a link to what you can do to help our friends abroad, in the [Phillipines](https://twitter.com/BrieLarsonHQ/status/1266399162217594880), [Hong Kong](https://www.reddit.com/r/HongKong/comments/cv0ws4/how_can_you_help_hong_kong_protests_from_abroad/) and the [United States](https://twitter.com/tpwkhollands/status/1265757092473954306?s=20)
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 5

****

2020

  


Finn  
There’s a soulmates event at the community center next week. Does that fit your schedule? :-)  
  


The message was short, on point, yet it had been the highlight of the past week, when Finn finally texted her to make plans. She had grinned at his message when her phone had plinged at work, and went immediately to look at her calendar.

She could go. They had no plans that evening. The excitement filled her in a way it really hadn’t since Ben had absentmindedly told her that, yes, they could go to Disney World this summer.

“Whatever you want,” he had said, to be more precise. 

However, asking this of Ben, for his permission, had proven to be a feat much more challenging than having him groan a half-hearted yes to summer vacation in Florida. 

Because permission was not acceptance, and even though the past week since that horrible weekend had been somewhat normal between them, Rey knew she was pushing it if she asked. She’d be the one breaking the fragile peace, and she would have to live the repercussions.

Yet, this morning, he had caressed her cheek tenderly and kissed her goodbye before he left. He had seemed ... pleased. Heck, last night he had even made a joke. A small fragile one, but a joke none the less.

But Rey supposed that they would have to make a decision about it. Finn wouldn’t go away, no matter what she and Ben decided to do with their lives. They could ignore it or they could try and make it fit, but he would never disappear. She would always have a soulmate. Even if she chose to not have him in her life. 

And she found that to be the most horrible waste. 

She has already a life spent wondering, hoping, and she didn't want to spend her remaining lifetime not knowing.

So.

“I- I’d like to go to this soulmates event with Finn. If that’s alright with you?” Rey blurts suddenly as they are standing in the local grocery store, hands white from how tight she grips on the handlebar of the shopping cart. Heart in her throat. 

Ben jumps, almost dropping the bottle of ketchup in his palm, but his expression is neither surprised nor angry...more...subdued. Adam’s apple bobbing, he draws in a few settling breaths, and without even turning his head to look at her, he -- nods.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Rey realises and frowns.

“Is it alright with you?” Rey asks once more, trying to lighten the mood by softly bumping the cart playfully into his legs. He startles, as if lost in a thought, and looks at her in confusion. His eyes dart between her face and where the cart dents his jeans. 

Then he sighs.

“Yes. It’s fine.”

Five years. Five years, and he still thinks himself such a perfect impeccable liar.

“Ben. I want you to tell me if it isn’t fine. If you don't want me to go.” She insists -- pleads. 

He tenses his jaw, and instead of replying just quietly places the bottle into the cart. On top of the mac and cheese, the vegetables he insists they consume, their unperfumed shampoo they both decided was the best, considering the environment and what not. 

She bumps him again, gently. 

“Ben. I  _ hope _ you will tell me if it is fine.”

“Rey-” He begins, but his voice falters. And it just breaks her, to see him like this. To see this man who loves to cradle her, to hug her, and kiss her, even when they go grocery shopping. How is it only three weeks ago since he literally kissed her neck silly a few rows down from here, trying to distract her from buying that whitest of white bread. As if his kisses were a currency with which he could change her mind. (It worked.) 

And now he’s just - standing there. Like he wants to put a distance between them. As if he’s decided his kisses have lost all monetary value. 

He takes one sad look at her, and then continues down the aisle.

Okay, so maybe the supermarket was a  _ terrible _ location for this conversation.

“Ben,” she groans and chases him down with the cart, the tiny wheels wobbling as she struggles to catch up. 

He shoulders visibly sack as he hunches over to look at different types of canned beans, pretending to inspect the labels on the back as he always does. The ingredients, the additives, whether it is organic or not. 

It’s always been an annoyingly cute habit of his.

Except she knows that’s not what he’s doing now. 

She lets go of the cart and carefully steps around it, her hands itching to touch him, to comfort him - would he even like that?

“Sweetheart?” She tries again, watching how he shields his face from her gaze, his own eyes burning into the Helvetica font. “Ben, please, talk to me, be honest with me, but --” her voice trembles “--don’t punish me.”

A grumble, “I’m not.”

“You  _ are _ .”

He puts the can back on the shelf, hand shaking, and hisses, “Then don’t punish  _ me-- _ ”, looking up and down the aisle, before explaining “-- What do you want from me Rey? Do you want me to be  _ angry _ ?  _ Understanding _ ? I don’t even know  _ anymore. _ ”

It hurts, in a way she didn’t expect to, A knife drilling in her chest as he reminds her of her selfishness, her hope that she can have everything and Ben would be fine with it. 

She falls to her knees next to him, where he is still bent over the cans and folds her arms around him, burying her face into the sinewy muscles of his bicep. Chanting, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He doesn't react away, even if she whispers the words, "I've just… I just need to know. I want to understand why he's my soulmate." 

His shaking hands falter into small soft trembles and after what seems like a million years has passed, he nods and brings his arm around to embrace her. “I’m sorry, too. Of course you can go. You should.. -- ." He exhales the unsaid words on the top of her head. 

“It’s gonna be okay. Okay? It’s  _ just _ a meeting.”

“ _ Just _ a meeting,” he repeats, and turns his nose into her auburn locks, nuzzling it through the strands of hair, and Rey can’t help but get the feeling he’s memorizing her. Storing away this moment for some horrible day. 

“Yeah.”

****

2015

  
  
  


Rey knows that she hasn’t been out for more than a few seconds. 

She knows that because while the memories are fuzzy, she clearly recalls shapes of people circling her, a voice in the background desperately talking on a phone and then without much ceremony being haphazardly lifted up from her spot on the ground and into someone's waiting arms. The recollections of that night are blurred at best, but she knows at some point a man shines a bright light into each of her eyes and asks her questions. So many questions.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Do you know your name?”

And then a nurse extends a measuring tape around her skinny malnourished arm, and gives out her estimate to the officer behind her, of how long she must have been alone, how underweight she is. 

And then the officer calmly asks her “When did you last see your parents?”

Wait, that’s not right.

Rey blinks her eyes open, realising she must have fallen asleep on the way to the hospital. She knows that’s where she must be, because the light that meets her from the fluorescent ceiling lamps is hard and unforgiving and the room smells of harsh cleaning detergents and latex gloves.

Like she’ll ever forget what a hospital is to her. 

What is new though, is that she can only open one eye. The other is clenched shut, heavy and throbbing and there’s an unmistaken metallic taste in her mouth and when she swallows the grim taste down, she can feel how sore her nose is too. The door must have hit her harder than she thought. She licks the rim of her teeth, and is glad to find that none of them are missing. 

Good, a black eye and a red nose will fade in time. Missing teeth don’t grow back. 

She draws in a deep breath, a part of her wants to groan out loud and another weep. But most all, she just wants to go back to sleep. If she’s sleeping she doesn’t have to begin to sort through the events of the night, to confront the mistakes and inadequacies, or why she has ended up surrounded by ugly faded turquoise curtains and stuck to a hospital bed. 

Because none of the answers her own mind will give her, will not end up opening that box of repressed memories she’s trying not to dwell on.

Especially not out in public, where other people can see. 

She closes her eyes, prepared to let herself be swept back under, when she hears a voice. 

“No, Poe. You are still too drunk.” It’s half-whispered, but unmistakable female, and sounds oddly enough like Leia. But why would she be here? At all? She’s hosting a Christmas party at the office, that’s her scene, her place --

“It’s not like you aren’t either, Leia!” Poe slurs. “Who is on her emergency contact list? Isn’t there someone we should call?”

Oh. So that’s why Leia’s here.

Because the one Rey wrote down isn’t here any longer, is he? The name she had confidently scribbled down on that sheet of paper the day she started in Leia’s office, despite her boss’ furrowing brows and disapproving eyes.

And what good did that choice do her?

He’s dead now. 

Gone. Decomposing in the ground somewhere. 

The reminder settles in her stomach like a heavy cocktail. Bitter and toxic. 

She’s alone. No one wants her. 

It takes Leia a while to reply, and when she does, its with an uncanny wariness “I’ll stay with her.” Then she pauses, before adding, “Or we can take shifts. But we should probably call an Uber. I -- we -- shouldn’t be driving.”

“Sure. We’ll just put on something on the TV, keep us awake - I might have some --”

But before Poe can finish his sentence, the door to the room clicks open.

“Is she awake yet?” 

Rey flips her head to the sound of --

Fuck.

Shit.

What is  _ he _ doing here? Especially after...

“Hello there Mr. Hero!” Poe proudly laughs, and Leia shushes him, which doesn’t really do anything “Tell me,  _ Ben _ . How much can you  _ really _ deadlift?”

“460 Ibs” Leia’s son says simply, to which Poe’s  _ whistles _ in reply. 

Rey sits up in the bed, unsure of whether or not she should keep listening in, if she should interrupt, if she should tell them all to leave - to - to - but then she freezes. Having been too preoccupied with trying to comprehend why Ben is here in the first place, she failed to notice that his footsteps are drawing nearer - right towards the curtain.

She swallows, panic serpenting her heart and mind, making her hand claw at the bedding. Should she pretend to sleep? Should she --

“No. She’s not awake.” Leia interrupts, and his feet skid to a halt. The leather shoes visible from underneath the turquoise monstrosity. “We’re still waiting on the doctor to come back and release her. All depends on whether or not she’s concussed.”

“Concussed,” Ben repeats, sounding oddly ...angry about it?

“Poe is -- stop laughing -- apparently stronger than he knows. To everyone’s detriment.”

“Clearly.” Ben grumbles, stepping away, which should relieve her, but her heart refuses to stop slamming against her ribs, hammering away on its own accord. It makes her ears ring, her mouth dry, yet she makes no attempt at moving, or withdrawing back underneath the sheets. 

“She’s not staying then?” he asks, a bit further away this time. 

Leia’s voice hardens. “She probably should. But I’m not sure she can afford -”

"Doesn't the insurance cover this?" 

Leia cuts him off, her voice rising as she mimicking what must have been the doctor earlier. “No. Apparently it doesn't cover this! Doesn’t cover  _ this _ ! She was drunk which means she didn't take the necessary precautions for keeping herself safe." 

“Fucking American health care--” the words are spit from his mouth, and then Rey hears clothes shuffling “--fucking greedy shitty -”

Stern and motherly, Leia stops him. “No. This is not your place! Don’t make this something it isn’t.” 

Rey wants to tell Leia that he definitely isn’t. He has been clear from the beginning that his intentions are not that same as hers. She is the one who wants to deduce from nothing, not him. 

However, before she can even act on any of her thoughts, the door opens again, and the tired voice of a doctor rings through the room. “Good morning everyone. How are we all?”

The trio all mumble something incoherent, and she's pretty sure Leia calls him a crook or maybe that's Ben, which the man obviously cares little about, because he easily steps up to Rey’s bed and pulls the curtain aside. A bit more harshly than necessary. Rey winches at the sound.

“Ah. Good. You are awake and conscious.” The doctor nods, scribbling away on his tablet, before moving a metal chair closer to her bed. Rey tries to ignore the surprised faces of her colleagues and whatever Ben is, and chooses instead to glare at her feet, when the doctor asks, “How are you feeling?”

Leia all but runs to the bed, relieved and insistently taking Rey’s hand into her own. Her eyes crinkle, and the mirth clear in her voice “You look like shit.” It makes Rey want to smile, but it hurts her nose.

The doctor raises an eyebrow at that, but when Rey replies with, “My head is hurting, I think - I’m not sure?” he reverts back to just scribbling her words down. Ticking off boxes and checking his pager. 

“Rey -” Poe begins, stepping up next to her, an apology already on his tongue, but honestly, she doesn’t even hear it. Her mind is too occupied with tracking Ben’s movements, who cautiously too moves closer to them. He doesn’t comment on anything, and settles for simply hovering at the edge of the bed like there’s some invisible border he can’t cross. Why she doesn’t know, and she refuses to meet his burning dark eyes, refuses to see his pity.

“What’s your name?” the doctor asks.

Sniffling, she confirms, “Rey Niima” 

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“The...hospital?” 

He nods, ticking off a box. 

“Why are you here?”

“Poe -” She nods to her obnoxious drunk off his ass co-worker, “- threw a door open in my face.” 

“Right,” the doctor replies, as if this is the thirteenth time he’d have to do this today, and with little ceremony reaches out to cup her cheeks, turning on his flashlight. He points it to one eye at a time, looking for a sign of something, while asking. “Any symptoms you’ve felt develop since you arrived? Dizzy? Blurred vision”

“Just a headache.”

He gives her another nod, pulling away and smiles a tired smile.

“Okay. Good. You don’t appear to have taken too much damage. I’ll have them release you --”

“Sure.” Rey groans at how her heavy eye aches and sits a bit further up on the bed. 

“--But before I do.” The doctor continues. “I just need to ask, do you have someone who can stay with you for the next 24 hours? As a precaution in case you show signs of a concussion or internal bleeding?” Then he grimaces “- I don’t have to tell you the story of Sarah Richardson, do I?”

Rey blinks, but understands the sentiment, even if she is unfamiliar as to what Liam Neeson’s wife has to do with it. “Sure. But...I ...I’ll be fine.”

What are her choices really? Poe seems on the verge of falling asleep, Leia has more important things to do than mother her, and then who else is there? Her neighbour? Rey has been through worse, and she’s sure it’s fine - she’ll be fine...

“Nonsense!” Leia announces from next to her, her smile desperate as she grips her hand tight. “You have Poe and I. We’ll take shifts watching you.” Poe nods enthusiastically, a bit too much, because he wobbles on his legs.

Rey swallows, bracing for their protests as she tries to turn them down in the gentlest way -- when Ben  _ scoffs _ .

_ “Are you guys insane? _ ” 

Everyone flips their heads to look at his sour face, and he makes no attempt at even hiding the venom in his voice, the frustration. “Poe, you are five minutes from passing out on the nearest couch! And...Mom -” 

Leia and Ben share a look, and he draws in a deep breath, his face tight, but strangely concerned and reprimanding at the same time. It feels like they are on the verge of a family bickering, a fight they’ve had again and again.

But neither says anything, until the doctor quietly suggests, “Maybe it would be best if you stay here. It’ll cost you, but I can arrange for someone to look after you…”

Ben slams his hand against the metal bed frame.

“Fine! I’ll take her!” 

Rey jumps at the harshness in his voice, and she sees him flinch at her reaction. He draws in a shaking breath, before adding. “Since I’m the only one who isn’t high as a kite or is about to be admitted for alcohol poisoning.” 

Poe gapes in some odd attempt at protesting, but Ben isn’t even giving him the slightest attention. No, his gaze is firm and hard on her. 

Rey thins her lips. The idea of having to spend the next 24 hours in awkward silence with Ben Solo is daunting. Exhausting as a concept in itself. What if he wants to talk about that cold unreciprocated kiss? She’s not sure she’ll ever be ready to confront that mistake.

But what is the alternative? He’s right, Leia and Poe shouldn’t be burdened by this, and they shouldn’t be forced to pay off an insane hospital bill, because she wouldn’t allow them to watch her. 

Leia smiles at her, reassuring and motherly. “He has a point….sadly.”

It's the stone that tips the scale.

Drawing in a deep breath, one that reverberates her whole sternum, Rey relents, and gives him a permission in the shape of a curt nod. 

“I’ll be downstairs.” He snaps and turns on his heel. 

“Always had that sense for dramatics.” Leia fondly shakes her head and starts instructing the doctor to begin discharging Rey.

Rey just prays that the last 24 hours will pass fast.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and ready to be canceled again.
> 
> As always, thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 6

****

2020

The community center is an old yellow modernist block in the middle of the city. Rust and weather marked, an eroded brick surface, telling a story of years of wear and tear, of use and disrepair — it looks like any other community building. It looks  _ ugly _ .

But in there, behind those glass doors that haven’t been replaced since the 70’s Finn is waiting for her. 

Rey knows that, because a banner hangs off the walls, pink and bright.

_ “Welcome Soulmates!” _

Rey has a soulmate.

Has there ever been something more exciting and beautiful than this moment? She must be beaming with light, with how much she has looked forward to this day. Not even an icy cold November with freezing rain can bring her mood down. Because finally, there’ll be an answer to where she belongs and why. Finally, the years of loneliness before Ben, before all of it, will make sense — because there was someone out there for her.

Rey pulls her winter coat tighter around her body, a gift from her fiancé years back, made of wool and far far too expensive. But that is how he is, she supposes. Overindulgent, uncaring about her opinions, if he feels her deserving of something. And Rey deserves only the best, according to him.

No one has ever wanted the best for her. Not like Ben.

No one like Ben. 

With a soft shove of her shoulder, Rey pushes the door open to the lobby, the heat from the crowds in their winter clothes already suffocating. It doesn’t help numb the nervousness prickling under her skin either, or eases the way her heart throbs heavily in her chest. It’s been years since her hands were this clammy. Heck, she has never been  _ this _ nervous around Ben either, not even when she coerced him into her bed. That had just felt natural — inevitable.

This feels — life altering. In the most scary way.

Scrunching her nose, she steps up on her toes to search the crowd for that  _ one _ familiar face. 

A part of her is unsure if she’ll recognize Finn, even though she knows his face by heart now. That’s what hours on Facebook studying his image does to you, even if it was done in some vain attempt at getting to know him through his social media presence alone. She could probably draw him blindfolded by now —

“Rey!” a warm voice calls from behind her. 

Three weeks have passed since they accidentally sparked in his office, and their meeting had been so brief, fleeting, that some days Rey began to doubt if their connection was even real. But the way his voice tingles down her back, reverberates through the room, leaves no room for doubt. How could she have forgotten how safe his voice made her feel? The calm!

Rey twirls on her heel, smiling brightly — and there he is!

Finn looks the same as she remembers, face freshly shaven and cheeks dimpling from the width of his smile. Teeth pearly white and skin perfectly dark. He pushes through the couples by his elbows, eager to get to her. It makes her smile, the eagerness. Should she run to him? A part of her desires nothing more, but would that be too much? They hardly know each other —

But before she comes to a conclusion, Finn has already wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders — A hug that pushes the air out of her lungs. Her skin prickles from his touch, because yes, they are soulmates. The confirmation makes her want to laugh or even sob, and she instinctively clutches at the back of his navy blue sports jacket in response to his warm embrace.

“I’m so happy to see you”, Rey  _ unintentionally _ whimpers, which just makes him laugh and draw her closer. It should be embarrassing, shameful, being this openly wanting, but compared to the rest of the crowd, they are sober and innocent. 

He pulls back to grin down at her, fangs showing “ _ I’m _ so happy we get to do this.”

“Me too!” She nods enthusiastically in reply. “This is so weird though!”

“So weird!” Finn agrees and releases her from his arms, but still rests his hands on her biceps and takes her in. It should be awkward, but it isn’t, and as they bask in the unlikeness that they’ve found each other, she knows in her bones that this was always inevitable. She was meant to find him - and gosh, there are so many things she wants to tell him, so many things she wants to know about him, but how does she even start —

“Hello everyone!” A bright cheery voice cuts like a knife through the murmur, and almost on cue, everyone turns their attention to the doors to the conference center, where a short statured woman with bright orange hair insistently waves. Barely visible from her and Finn’s spot at the far end. “— Thank you all for coming! If you’ll please come with me this way, we’ll get started on the introductions.”

The crowd moves instantaneously, an excited buzz snaking its way through the many bodies until it reaches them both. Finn releases her shoulder with yet another beaming smile, and Rey wonders if she should hold his hand? Would he think that’s too much?

As soon as the thought hits her, she repulses. 

Surprise,  _ mortification _ , they churn inside her. And a voice from her heart half-shouts to her brain, sternly reminding it, that she’s in  _ love _ , she’s  _ engaged! _

She knows all of this, is excited about her wedding, but it is suddenly all dulled, numbed down by her soulmate instinct. As if some part of her divine bond with Finn censors her previous desires with glossy paint, highlighting only Finn. Finn. Finn. Finn. 

It scares her, in a way she hadn’t expected to. She couldn’t do that to Ben. She doesn’t want to.

A saner part of her brain seems to take over, and with a small huff, she draws her hand painfully tight to her chest and keeps it there. Ben had been strong and understanding in all of this, been the better person, the understanding person, and given her his blessing to go today. 

So, when they go to sit down next to a couple in a passionate embrace, Rey anchors herself by circling the ring on her finger, thinks about the wedding dress at home and the way he had smiled so softly at her yesterday, when she had almost walked out of the house with toothpaste on her shirt. 

Does Finn struggle like she does? She wonders, as she carefully traces his every move. He clearly doesn’t look like it. With the way he easily pockets his hands in his pants, and greets the people around them. All of them in love, all eager smiles and no cause for hesitation.

It wouldn’t surprise her that she is terrible at being a soulmate, Rey silently thinks to herself, when they sit down on the hard foldable plastic chairs, skin turning red around her ring, guilt pinching at her stomach. 

“You okay?” Finn whispers, leaning slightly close. He smells nice. Like something warm and exciting. But not like home, not like Ben. 

“It’s…—” Rey begins, but unsure of how to even explain. “...it’ll be fine.”

The red haired lady steps up on the stage, tapping on the microphone, before beaming, begins to introduce the schedule of the evening and the speakers, before venturing into listing the different stalls that’ll be available after the presentations.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, low enough for only Rey to hear. “— I’m a good listener I’ve been told.”

She shoots him a small smile, but doesn’t reply, mostly due to a very enthusiastic professor taking the microphone who begins a both exciting and boring lecture on the history of soulmates — the science, of whether it is conditional or divine, or even - biological? Then another lady with hair braided tight introduces various local organisations that support new soulmates transitioning into a new kind of commitment. Because being soulmates are not like being a regular couple, it's different, tighter, more stable.

And that’s why soulmates usually get discounts when renting apartments, on loans, and taxes, because the risks are less than normal couples. Rey knew that, vaguely, but she hadn’t been involved when Ben bought the house, so she wasn’t entirely sure...

Frowning, Rey notes how none of the speakers take their time talking about other combinations of soulmates - former partners are hardly mentioned. Almost as if it is expected that you cut ties already.

Is she...in the wrong?

The thought follows her, sticks to her spine, all throughout the lecture and into the stall area, a stale smelling side room filled to the brim with representatives from banks, insurance companies, charities, beauty salons, clothing, the lot of it! But mostly, to Rey’s surprise -  _ wedding planners _ . All of them ready to lure the promise of divine destiny in their grasp.

Bored waiting for Finn to come back from the bathroom, Rey curiously lifts a pamphlet from the municipality, a soft baby blue color with swift curling letters and grimaces.

**Found your soulmate? Get married tomorrow already! Why wait on the rest of your life to begin?**

“What a beautiful ring!” 

Rey jumps and throws down the paper as if caught in a crime, staring into the eyes of an older lady with bright purple hair and a tight fitting collared shirt. “Sorry?” 

The owner of the stall points to Ben’s diamond encrusted ring on Rey’s finger, excited. “When did you spark? Did he already propose?” The woman half-squeaks, reaching over the table to grasp at Rey’s hand “—what a wonderful thing. Why waste time when …”

“No! no—” Rey pulls back her hand as if scalded, “Finn and I — we aren’t…”

The stall owner looks nothing close to remorseful, but apologizes nonetheless. “Oh. My bad. I forget how some people just wear it for fashion. I'm sure your Finn will find it in him to propose soon.” Rey cringes at the confidence with which the woman says the words. “Soulmates — aren’t they just wonderful!”

Had it been any other way, heck, any other day, the lonely scavenger from Jakku might have been inclined to agree, but there’s something just, not — right about this. Rey nods, her cheeks flushed whether from embarrassment, anger — but mostly shame. Burning bright and hot in her chest, and quickly walks away.

Maybe going here hadn’t been the right decision. It is all too new, too fresh, so many things unsettled…

“Hey!” Finn announces from next to her, making her jump for the second time that day. He throws his hand in front of her, clutching a cup of steaming vending machine coffee “—I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just assumed with the whole soulmate thing, that you might like what I like.”

Rey looks up at him, surprised, but her soulmate must see something else there, because his permanent smile falters. “You’re not okay.”

It’s a relief to hear someone say it out loud. To confirm that, No, it’s not just her. It’s not just Ben. That something is not right about all of this.

With burning eyes, she swallows a nod, and reaches out to take the cup from his hands. When did they start shaking?

“You know. It’s too hot inside, let’s go outside for a while. All of this is getting to my head too.”

“Yeah.” It comes out so weakly, more so then she intends, but somehow the last few traumatic weeks come crashing down, and they all say the same thing. 

She’s a horrible soulmate. Pathetic. Miserable.

But that’s not what pains her the most. Not what crushes her spirit. 

Knowing she’s breaking Ben’s heart.

Finn doesn’t know that though, he eases them out of the community with practised ease. She remembers noticing him attending a lot of concerts from his activity feed on Facebook. That’s probably where he got it.

Rey hasn’t ever really been to a concert. Not really. 

Tugging his jacket tighter around his waist, he pushes the door open with his foot, still balancing both their coffees and leads them both to a snow covered picnic table around the corner. He leans against the wood and once more tries to hand her the coffee.

This time she accepts it.

And he cuts right to the chase. “How are things at home?” 

Rey tenses her jaw, and goes to sit next to him, warming her hands on the hot styrofoam cup. 

“Not great.”

“Have you talked about it?”

Rey turns her eyes to graffiti on the wall, watching her breath fog the air. Because that’s the question isn’t it? And just because she’s met Finn twice now, doesn’t mean that he’s the right person to involve, the right person to open up to…

But what’s the point of a soulmate, if not exactly this.

“I’ve tried — but — it's hard.” Hard might be the wrong word. It’s actually been exhausting, excruciating. “He’s...closing off.”

He pauses, pursing his lips in an attempt to settle on what to say next, and then sighs. “Yeah. I got the impression he was that type.”

“What type?”

Finn sips from his cup, shrugging, “He seems defensive to the point where he gets offensive. I don’t know him as well as you do, but he came off as that kind of person to me.”

“Yeah.” she sighs “He can be like that.”

Stubborn, withdrawn, condescending to a fault —

“Do you feel guilty about  _ this _ ?”

— but also loving, tender and gentle. And tall. 

“Gosh.” Rey admits, her laugh a bit wetter than she intends it to be. “All the time. I feel guilty about Ben. I feel guilty about this, about you —”

Finn nudges her shoulder with his, “You shouldn’t feel guilty about me.”

“Of course I should. I’m a terrible soulmate.” 

“Rey, that’s not —”

She clutches the cup hard in her hand and turns her torso to face him. Jaw tight because if today has told her anything — “I need to be honest with you.”

“Okay.”

“I like you.” 

“Okay.”

“But I love Ben.”

“Yeah.”

“And...and I’m not sure we’ll ever be like…” it hurts to say, to exhale the words that confirms there’s something wrong with her, that they aren’t like everyone else inside the community center. The ring on her finger probably won’t ever be Finn’s. “...I don’t... _ this _ , between us, doesn’t feel romantic to me. I’m not interested in — that.”

This is where it ends. This is where he tells her just how weird she is. How much of a disappointment this is. Here he has been waiting his whole life for someone, and the one destiny has chosen is someone who doesn’t even want him! What a waste of divine intervention. 

_ Can you return your soulmate? _

He’s quiet for a moment, but instead of leaving, his shoulders start to shake, and then he laughs. “I need to be honest with you too.”

“What?”

“You know,” Finn muses, snickering into his cup as he takes a sip, “—I was surprised, when it turned out that my soulmate was ... _ female _ .”

Her brows crinkle trying to decipher his words, “I — why?”

“I…- I’ve never been with a girl.” Finn says like it’s the most straightforward thing, swallowing down his coffee, “Only boys.”

_ Oh. _

Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle that is Finn slides perfectly together. The pictures on his Facebook, the way he had addressed his former partners, how he hasn’t made any attempts at making this more than a simple friendship.

Finn likes  _ men. _

“Is...this  _ normal _ ? To be...paired like this?” Rey can’t help but blurt. “Aren’t...you thought your soulmate would be a boy?”

Finn muses, unsure. “I’m not sure what I thought. For a while I was convinced I wasn’t someone who had a soulmate. Who’d want to be stuck with me?” Then his cheeks dimple, grin charming and resolute.

“So...you...you aren’t disappointed with me? That I’m...with Ben and..?” 

“No, Rey, God’s no!” Finn leans forward, staring her straight in the eye, offence clear on his face.

Relief, even with all the questions inside of her, the ones that try to understand what all of this means, if they weren’t - aren’t supposed to — flood her body. Relief. She feels relief. 

“Finn. Oh my god. You can’t…” she curls an arm around his neck and buries her head into his shoulder, relishing in feeling their connection. The prickling sensation. He returns to the hug eagerly, rubbing his chin on top of her hair. 

“You and Ben are gonna get married. You are gonna walk down the aisle, and I’m gonna shoot the most wonderful photos of you guys.” His breath is warm against her scalp, as he breathes the words, “-  _ you _ gotta make him smile though.”

Rey smiles into his jacket, giddy and hopeful. “Yeah.”

“How did you meet Ben? I’m curious?”

  
  


****

2015

The sky is slowly lightening by the time Ben’s car pulls up to her apartment. 

It’s quiet still, a lazy early sunday morning, where no footsteps have yet disturbed the freshly fallen snow on the pavement. 

Ben hunches over the steering wheel and squinches at the  _ charming _ concrete building covered in tags and graffiti. It’s not a sight to behold, and it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, but its home, its hers, and she pays for it with her own money.

For the first time since she stepped into what has turned out to be the most awkward car ride of her life, Rey turns to look at him. She half expects him to snort, to belittle her, or tell her that he absolutely will not stay here. He’s rich, too rich for this at least, and will not let himself submit to other standards than that.

His hands squeak on the leather steering wheel as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. It’s interesting, she supposes, that he on one hand is unreadable but at the same time completely transparent. He tenses his jaw, thins his lips, but doesn’t say anything. And were it not for how her eye is throbbing or how sore her head feels, she might have been more inclined to read between the lines and attempt to make some sense of how laboured he’s suddenly breathing or how intensely he is  _ not _ looking at her..

But in all honesty, Rey just wants to sleep. 

Ben huffs, drums his fingers once on the steering wheel, before reaching some internal resolution and then leans back to grab his computer bag from the backseat, hastily leaving the car and shuts the door more firmly than necessary. Never once opening his mouth to speak to her.

Was this really better than having Poe and Leia crash on the couch?

Groaning, Rey pulls herself out of the car. The air is crispy cold, morning fresh, but luckily this time she’s actually wearing her jacket, a surprise achievement of Poe’s who had been just sober enough to realise it’s December and Rey might need it. 

It’s old, scavenged from a local thrift store when she first came here, like everything she owns, but it's good. It keeps her warm, it protects her from the rain. 

It’s hers.

The keys are as old as the building itself, and makes a rusty crunching sound when she turns it in the lock. Ben impatiently leans against the railing on the staircase, tapping his foot against the stone steps. 

“I know what you are thinking.” Rey sighs, pressing the squeaking door open with her shoulder. “You can leave if you want to. Leia is not here.”

“I promised her I’d keep an eye on you,” he reminds her, following her like a duckling. 

Had it been any other day, then maybe Rey would’ve done more to force his mind. But she’s exhausted to the brim of lucidity and there’s enough guilt in her stomach and pain in her swollen eye to not try and defy Leia — or at least know how to excuse herself the next time she sees her.

So she lets him inside and lets him follow her up to her small one bedroom apartment on the third floor. His feet are heavy behind her, stomping up the steps like a petulant child forced to do his mother’s bidding.

She supposes that is true in some way.

“Do you live alone?” he asks, when Rey flicks on the light with a flick of her finger, and she can’t help but turn around and give him a scrutinizing look. 

Because it’s there for him to see. It’s hardly an apartment, more of a closet. The kitchen is small, with hardly any counter or cupboard space. And on the few square inches of floor space she has, she keeps a small foldable plastic table and a lumpy mattress, right next to the window. 

She likes that spot, especially on her early mornings when she doesn’t have to go to work and can just watch the rain slide down the dirty glass.

“Yes. I live alone.” The confirmation shouldn’t feel that shameful, but as she sweeps down to pick up her discarded clothes, eyeing the unwashed dishes in the sink, it does. Her cheeks burn a little.

Ben takes off his shoes by the heel, and deposits them next to her muddy sneakers, kicking the door shut with his socked feet, and moves towards the table to pull out a chair. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks, setting up his laptop like a man used to working everywhere “Groceries? I could call…”

“It’s fine.” Rey snaps, slipping off her jacket and throwing herself on the bed. She’s not that hungry, she’s actually a bit nauseous. 

He’s silent from behind her, and she gets the feeling that he’s watching her, probably trying to make sense of her hostility, but honestly Rey doesn’t even feel that vengeful - she mostly just wants to close her eyes and fall asleep on top of her overwashed Mickey Mouse duvet cover, fully dressed, like an adult.

“The doctor said you should avoid sleeping,” he half comments. “In case you start feeling worse.”

“I’m sure it can’t get worse than this.” Rey mumbles into her pillow. Should she have drawn the curtain? “And I’ve had worse.”

He scoffs somewhere behind her, and before she can say anything, he’s leaning down next to the bed, resting on his heels. There are bangs under his eyes, as if he too desperately needs to sleep, but he chooses to be here. Looking after her.

“Rey. I know you’re not stupid, so stop acting like you are.”

She snorts in offense, “You don’t need to be here.”

“I think I do. With how you are acting.” his eyes burn with frustration, with exhaustion “So here’s what we are gonna do. You can sleep. But I’ll wake you up every hour to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Maybe you are, or maybe you aren’t.” The words have a certain finality to them, the way a teacher would scold a child. A parent stopping a tantrum. And then he stands, obviously finished with whatever conversation he is having with her. “I’m gonna make some coffee.”

Droopy-eyed, she watches him thread back to the small kitchen, turning on the water boiler with a certain desperation, scooping up generous spoons of instant coffee in what must be her only clean cup. He’s annoyed, on the offensive, and he reminds her much more of the person she met at Han’s funeral, than the cautiously smiling man from the elevator, the rooftop.

From this angle she can see just how full his lips are. The ones she had in a moment of insanity decided to kiss but a few hours ago. And that must surely be the cause of this dramatic change in their dynamic.

The reason why they had gone from cautious familiarity to full on hostility. A reluctant companionship.

Rey wonders, as she closes her eyes, letting sleep consume her, if she had waited, let him come to her, if he would have kissed her in time.

Probably not.

****

“Rey.”

She moans, it’s too early. The caravan is too cold. Not now.

“Rey.”

If she opens her eyes they are just gonna leave again. They don’t leave without telling her, they never have. But if she gives in and flutters her eyes open, they will know she’s awake, and then they can leave. She must stay asleep, she must, she must —

“Rey. You okay?” The voice is soft, deep, full of compassion, and she would love to hear that voice speak to her, any day. Every day. 

A hand touches her cheek, warm and gentle, a thumb brushes over the bone. It feels wonderful, amazing.

“Wake up.”

Wait, that’s not...

She groans, blinking her eyes open. 

It’s still light in the apartment, and she cannot have been asleep for more than a few hours. But that’s not what catching her immediate attention. No, it’s Ben, hovering above her splayed out on her bed. Warm brown eyes searching hers for something, while he withdraws his hand as if to hide the evidence of his touch.

If she wasn’t so lightheaded, she’d probably be ashamed of how she whimpers at the loss of his touch, raising her chest from the bed in attempt to lure his attention back.

He doesn’t bite.

“You okay?”

“What?” She rasps, smacking her dry lips.

“Do you feel different? Dizzy? Do you remember where you are?”

She looks around the room, and yeah, she knows where she is. She’d recognize this place any day and yawns a reply “Just tired.”

“Okay.” he nods, and reaches over to her chest to pull on the blanket and drape it over her body in the most gentle of ways.

It makes her blink at him and whisper. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be nice.”

He stops tugging her in to look at her, his expression unreadable. “I know.”

“Why?” She almost,  _ almost  _ begs. In her sleepful delirium, she desires nothing more than to understand his action towards her, why he flickers between hot and cold. Why he makes her want to kick him out, but also to grasp him by the neck and pull him into her bed. To let her feel the softness of his curls. To sleep on his chest, her head tucked safely below his chin.

Rey can’t help it, drowsy eyed and half way between dreaming and awake, her finger moves on her own, ghosting against his collar, her gaze entranced by the soft black hair curling right  _ there _ — 

He pulls away.

“I’ll wake you in an hour.”

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


She struggles falling asleep after that. Her mind and thoughts restless, a jumble of regret, misery and longing, replaying the way he had abruptly pulled away at her touch, the way he stiffly had received her cold kiss not even 24 hours ago. And when she finally does fall back asleep, it’s with the memory of his horrified expression, the way he almost  _ snarled  _ at her. 

So when he wakes her, she answers his checklist as quickly as possible, and when he moves away, without ever touching her, she flips on her side to continue wallowing in her self induced misery. Twice she has overstepped, twice she has ignored every sign that he isn’t interested. Her Mickey Mouse bed sheets which she bury her nose into confirm everything she has come to know about herself.

Young. Naive. And needy.

The hours blur and her head begins to hurt less, and her eye becomes less swollen, but probably more black. Rey wouldn’t claim that she is well rested, not at all, but she senses that things are changing the moment her eyes flutter open on her own and not from Ben softly whispering her name.

Mostly because she needs to pee … a lot.

With a small groan, she pushes herself up by the elbow, rubbing her good eye free of sleep and smacks her dry lips. It must be late afternoon, Rey guesses, from the orange hue cladding her worn white walls. So at least eight hours have passed since he had driven her back, since he stubbornly cemented himself on her wobbly kitchen chair. With a slight turn of the head, Rey tries to see if he’s still here.

He’s still sitting at the table, back facing her, all broad shouldered and hunched over, curiously silent as if he’s caught up in something important. 

There’s an aggressiveness to him, Rey thinks, something about him she hasn’t been able to articulate before. Even as he sits silently, the tightness of his muscles, the way his jaw tenses not in silent contemplation, but to stop himself from spilling his own hurtful rants. 

Carefully, Rey pads towards the bathroom and relieves herself. It’s tiny, miniscule, barely fitting a tiny person like her, and as she sits, she can see the side of her face reflected back at her in the mirror. 

It’s worse than she thought. Her entire right eye bruised, black, red spotting and there, on the front of her forehead the proof of Poe’s crime. A large red swollen lump. Rey brushes her fingers over the skin, winching a bit at the heaviness of it, but luckily it doesn’t hurt as much as she feared.

But that’s about the only good thing she recognizes staring back at her. The rest of it is lumpy sweaty dark hair, makeup staining the rim of her eyes and the bones of her cheeks. 

No wonder Ben was repulsed when she tried to pull him into her bed. 

Still sitting, Rey pulls up yesterday’s dress with swift hands, throws it in the sink (so it won’t get wet) and turns on the shower, while removing her panties and bra. The shower head stutters, spraying a mix of cold and warm water onto the tiles, but it’s just what she needs. To rinse off the sweat and clean her hair, the feeling of water running down her skin, to cool off her flush, sober her embarrassment.

For the first time since that moment in the elevator, Rey feels clear headed, none of the dull— 

When someone knocks softly on the door.

_ “Rey?”  _ Ben asks.

And all the courage disappears down her semi clogged drain with the water and the soap. Rey freezes, eyes flicking to the source of her misery. The source of her conflicting feelings and headache, obscured behind a door.

_ “Hello?” _

Her heartache.

What does he want?

He knocks on the door again, harder. “ _ Rey _ ?”

A part of Rey has always known that she approaches conflicts in a way that usually leads to more trouble than what it is worth. That she sometimes would be better off opening up and letting people in.

But the last 24 hours feel like she has lived with her heart cut open and he continues to rub salt into her wound. Into her soul. 

And now especially, Rey can’t help but wonder why he, now, of this entire day he chooses to want a conversation with. Chooses to barge in while she’s showering, demanding her attention. Can’t he wait just two more minutes?!

So, with the mindset of a young heartbroken teenager, Rey turns the faucet up, intent on drowning out the sound of Ben and finishes her shower.

Wrong choice for her door. 

Right choice in the end. 

“Rey!?” Ben shouts, desperation dripping from his tongue.

And before Rey can even stop him, he slams his shoulder into the frame. 

It budges. But doesn’t give.

“Hey!” She shouts over the sound of him trying to slam it open  _ again _ and turns off the shower. “Stop that!”

“Rey?” He confirms, the same moment she reaches over and flings the door ajar, but not before wrapping her body in a towel.

She hopes the look she gives him makes him squirm, makes him recoil.

Neither happens.

Instead he just stares at her dumbfounded and relieved.

“What’s your problem?” she demands.

He blinks. “My problem?”

Rey points to the dent in her cheaply made door. “I’m never getting my deposit back.”

A grimace crosses his face, but it's hard to tell if it is remorse or anger, not from the way he stiffens his jaw and moves his mouth.

Which doesn’t really matter, because the words he chooses to settle on are these.

“What’s  _ your _ problem?”

It’s Rey’s turn to blink, “What?” 

“I don’t understand,  _ Rey _ .” He takes a step away from the door, “I’m here to  _ help _ you. But you want me to fight you.”

Fight him? No. That’s not — “No. I want you to stop babying me.”

“Babyi—-? You shouldn’t shower unsupervised. It’s dangerous with a concussion!” 

“I’m fine.” Rey shoulders her way past him, her hair probably still foaming from the shower, and marches to her clothes pile, flinging the dirty pieces to that side in her search for something clean to wear. 

He follows her, “You wouldn’t act like this if my mother was here.” A pause. “— or Poe.”

His words ring true, and curse them. A part of Rey wishes she didn’t react to them, didn’t flinch at his tone, and what can she possibly reply to him? That yes, he is different from his mother? From Poe? That he unnerves her? Makes her nervous? Agitated?

So she chooses defiant silence instead. 

He doesn’t. 

“I see.” Ben concludes, “I’m  _ still _ the monster.”

How could she possibly believe he’d forget that?

“Ben—”

“You hate me. Why?” 

“I don’t hate you.” Rey half mumbles, half sighs with her back to him. 

“You do.” He pauses. “It’s a game to you. Isn’t it?” With measured steps he walks around her, to get into her view, eager to agitate, to provoke. “You act nice, compassionate, but it is some elaborate ruse.”

“What —” She tries to interrupt, but he rants on.

“— Wants to be different, but is just ready to  _ use _ me for some —” He  _ spits _ the words “— endgame I can’t even fathom what is.”

_ And there it is.  _

She blinks up at him, for a moment too stunned to believe the venom, to understand his flushed cheeks and wet eyes. And in her own hurt she failed to see it, the way he acts around her, how he doesn’t act that way around...anyone else. Not even his mother. That his tenseness is simply nerves and reservations.

She knows this, because she is the same.

Towel still wrapped around her torso, Rey stands up from her spot on the floor and tilts her head to look directly at him. 

“I don’t know either.”

Stubborn, he fails to recognise what she’s implying. “What?”

So maybe today isn’t the day she’ll understand Ben Solo’s churning feelings towards her, or why he hasn’t left, or why he didn’t kiss her back. But he’s here, in the middle of her apartment, hopeful for someone to not disappoint him like everyone else.

Which is more than anyone else has ever done for her.

“What I want. What do you want?” One hand grasping the edge of the towel, she reaches out and grasps his hand. “Especially what you want.” 

Confused, still frustrated, he allows her to claps their hands. “What does that have to do—”

“What do you want?”

He pauses, eyes flicking across her face, and this feels like the balcony all over again. This tension between them, something she has never felt before - and gosh, she doesn’t even know him. But she feels like she does? 

With a heavy exhale, he finally whispers, “I want you to take this seriously”, but not before adding. “And let me help you.”

And just like that, with less effort than the shower, the annoyed feeling from the shower is washed away. Down the drain.

Because he cares.

Which is why she admits, “I could eat.”

  
  


****

  
  


He orders something that tastes spicy and heavenly, in many plastic containers, when she changes into her pajamas. She could honestly have settled for just fries, but right now Rey wasn’t feeling the fight.

And neither did he.

In fact, they spend the rest of the evening in a strange companionable silence, with the only thing exchanged being brief looks. More looks out of confusion and curiosity than anything else though, because while the dust had settled, nothing has been resolved.

Nothing besides Ben finally giving in and falling asleep sitting on her plastic chair, their show still running on his laptop. All big and awkward and bound to get a crick in the neck.

That can’t do.

“Ben.” Rey whispers, touching his shoulder.

He groans at her voice, eyes flickering open. Not unlike how he has spent the day watching over her.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the chair.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards her. “You can sleep on the bed, it's fine.”

With a tumble, he sleepily follows her, and lets her guide him down on the mattress. Knees denting that lumpy scavenged thing, but it's at least better than the chair. Rey fluffs the pillow and pushes him to the side towards the wall. Which seems to awaken him, slightly.

“I should go home.” He mumbles, rubbing the corner of his eye. “I shouldn’t —”

“Ben.” She sighs, and lies down next to him on her back. Their arms are barely touching. “I don’t mind.”

The light is still on in the kitchen, that pale green glow, but where they are it's dark, dark enough for Rey to not clearly see where Ben is. 

And maybe it is the darkness. The food, the fact that he seems to care, that makes her open her heart. Like she’s whispering a secret into the air.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Silence.

She shouldn’t have mentioned it. Oh god. She shouldn’t have —

“Why  _ did _ you kiss me?” He rasps quietly into the night. 

Why did she kiss him? Does she know? Was it pity? Attraction?

No. None of those. Or only those. It wasn’t that.

Rey sighs, then swallows, and whispers another secret into the room. “You made me feel...less alone.”

An exhale, something close to disbelief and laughter erupts from beside her.

“But you don’t even  _ like _ me, Rey.”

Does she like him? She’s not sure, but she’s definitely sure that —

“Well. I don’t  _ hate _ you.”

A pause.

“Do you  _ kiss _ a lot of people you don’t like?”

Rey snorts and turns on her side, so she’s facing him, and curls in on herself. “No. Just you.” 

It's too dark to see his reaction. And he’s too quiet to determine what he’s thinking. Not that she’s ever been good at that.

“Shouldn’t you...be looking for your soulmate, or something?” he murmurs. 

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Touché.”

And then, almost as if he can’t help it, he turns around too, yet says nothing, but it doesn’t matter. The air between them is warm and electric. Buzzing with promise and compassion. 

His finger touches the palm of the hand partially tucked under her head. A question, a confession, it is hard to tell, when he admits. 

“You make me feel less alone too.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, I had originally hoped to be able to post once a week, but I've been busy trying to fix my mental health and depression! With that said, things are improving and I'm doing well right now.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 7

****

2020

  
  


The wine tastes bitter, and no matter how much the waiter goes on about the year of the grapes, the season they were grown in and the wood of the barrels, it still tastes bitter.

it doesn’t surprise Rey, and it almost feels symbolic of what kind of company Ben works for. How they talk and talk about their impact, of the quality of their products, but when it all comes down to it - it's a toxic and bitter place, a place that makes Ben angry and agitated when he gets home, makes him say things, horrible things.

— but there are only so many times Rey wants to fight Ben over it.

And they are not in a good place right now. 

She knows that because normally she can feel Ben’s hand on her back as they walk the room. But tonight he stands next to her, arms crossed, a small but visible distance between them.

It’s been like that ever since she came back from the soulmate convention. Distance on the couch, in the kitchen, in the bed. Even if she managed to explain what had happened, even laughed about the silliness of the entire soulmate business. He had smiled once, but then reverted back to a week of his hot and cold feelings towards her. Rey is not sure she would have made it, had she not been fueled by Finn’s promise. 

That this will pass. That she and Ben will get married. And that Finn will take their photos.

Hux takes a drag of his cigarette as they listen to Snoke speaking from the podium further up, and leans over to say something into Ben’s ear, who only solemnly nods along. Rey frowns into her wine, feeling herself getting drunker by the second, despite really hating the taste.

It’s easier than participating.

And by the time they sit down at the tables inside, Ben not so subtly slides her a bottle of water. “Maybe you should slow down a little,” he at least  _ whispers _ . 

Phasma chuckles and pokes the salmon, her long blue nails tapping against the silver utensils. “Leave her be Solo. A girl should be allowed to have a little fun once in a while.”

Rey’s cheeks flush, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from sheer embarrassment that it is so obvious and she expects Ben to defend her, to at least tell Phasma to shut up, but he says nothing.

Only returns to his seat, silent as he has been the last few weeks. Like he was the entire ride to this company thing, like the entire afternoon before hand and the moment when she’d asked him if her dress was too revealing (hoping to get a very different reaction from him).

Silence.

She doesn’t touch the water.

“So how are you two?” Hux manages to half shout through the noise, “We haven’t received a wedding invitation yet. You know you have to get those out at least four months in advance.”

There’s a tick below Ben’s eye, he doesn’t reply.

Phasma sips from her glass, joining the public grilling, “Me too! I was wondering if mine had gotten lost in the mail.”

Rey opens her mouth to explain, when Ben interrupts. “We are postponing it for a bit.” He fingers tap against the table, his food untouched. “It was a bit much at the moment.”

_ Oh, so we are postponing it? _ Rey thinks, trying not to gawk at him. She is pretty sure that this had  _ not _ been discussed since that one time over text, which she had not replied to, and apparently he has now decided on behalf of both of them that they are rescheduling the wedding.

Even though she secretly believes he’s looking for an excuse to cancel.

They should’ve stayed home. That much is clear now. 

This was a mistake.

She takes another sip from her wine.

“What a shame. But I’ve always been more of a spring wedding kinda girl — or fall.” Phasma casually says, oblivious to the tension between Rey and Ben. 

“Me too.” Rey hears herself say, reaching over the table to take the salt and pouring a generous amount on the salmon. Ignoring the way Ben is obviously staring at her, almost as if he is waiting for her to tell them, to be the one to take the step.

She won’t. There’s no way she’ll give him an excuse to make this worse or to make her out to be the enemy.

So neither says anything and neither talks to each other throughout the course of the meal, instead they give small grunts or engage in conversations with anyone but themselves. Sometimes Rey hates how stubborn she is and how stubborn she is. How good they are at suffocating in their own pain just to not lose. 

It wasn’t always like that. Or at least it wasn’t like that between them.

She has an urge to call Finn, to hear his voice and have him tell her it's okay. Everything will be alright. These feelings will pass. Her and Ben can go through with it.

But how can they get through it when she feels guilty and he shuts her out. 

“Oh!” Phasma suddenly shouts, covering her mouth with her hand, “Have you heard? Mitaka just found his soulmate last week.”

Ben freezes, visibly freezes. 

Hux turns around looking both surprised and appalled. “Mitaka? That little runt, a soulmate?”

“Yes! He just told me about it. Of course, it was very hard with his girlfriend - but honestly, as he said it himself. He has never been happier.” Her white pearly teeth look revolting. 

“Of course he is. Soulmates are soulmates. What’s the point in staying with the other person?” Hux’s words are venom, pure acidic venom. She can see Ben square his shoulders, as if he is steeling himself, closing himself off... “- I won’t call myself a purist, but we are what we are. No need to fight what nature has given us,” Hux proudly announces. 

Something protective rises in her chest. Something vile and they don’t know the half of it and they don’t even have a soulmate themselves!

“I don’t think that’s true.” Rey announces, trying not to slur on her words. “— I found my soulmates three weeks ago. And Ben and I are still together  _ and _ happy.” It's not a lie. Is it? Then why does Ben flinch? 

She continued undeterred, “I think soulmates are overrated. If you love your partner, then you should be with them.” Why doesn’t it look like Ben’s consoled? Why are his eyes so downcast? 

Hux and Phasma’s expressions are that of stunned wide eyed reindeers, caught in the headlights of a car, which only makes Rey proud. 

Phasma is the first to break the awkward silence that follows, “Wow. Rey. We — didn’t know.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal.” Rey says, shrugging nonchalantly, reaching over for the glass of wine. Ben grabs her wrist. “I think you’ve had enough, Rey.”

She shakes it off,  _ harsher than necessary, _ and downs the golden liquid before he can stop her. And with unsteady legs she announces, “I’m going to the bathroom,” rising quickly from her chair and maneuvers herself through the tables, only once tripping on the carpet. 

_ If you’ll excuse me _ , Rey hears from behind her and the scrapping of a chair as Ben  _ of course  _ follows her. 

So now he wants to talk.

She steers towards the toilets, before walking out the fire door and into the back alley. A single waiter is having a smoke break next to the kitchen door, but except from him she’s alone. Perfectly alone.

A tear falls from her eye and she rubs it away furiously, only to hear Ben open the door next to her.

“Are you done now?”

She snorts, not knowing what she had expected. Empathy perhaps? “Am I done now?” Rey replies, shaking her head even though it hurts to do so. 

“Maybe...maybe we should’ve just stayed at home.” Ben says, the annoyance clear in his voice. He probably hates that she’s ruining this for him, that she embarrasses him in front of Snoke and his coworkers. His horrible girlfriend who has a  _ soulmate _ . Someone who isn’t Ben.

She doesn’t reply.

“Rey.” Does he need to sigh her name like that? Like she’s a burden. His hand touches her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Rey sniffs, his words reviving the burn in her eyes, the well of tears threatening to fall. 

“No.” Another sniff, her voice small as she crosses her arms over her chest. It’s cold outside “Not really.”

“Do you want to go home?” he asks, almost gently.

It makes her laugh, a half disbelieving sound. “Do  _ you _ want to go home? Do  _ you _ even —”

“Don’t go there, Rey.” There’s a hint of anger, something buried and repressed. “It’s hard enough as it —”

“I know!” A sob. “You remind me every day. You...you hide from me! You won’t talk to me.” Rey presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, doing her best to stop the tears. She won’t cry. Not now, not at Snoke’s stupid party. “I tell you that everything is fine! That Finn doesn’t even like women and it’s like — you just ignore it. Ignore me!”

But she can’t stop the tears, or the soft wail of her misery.

“And I can’t even be angry with you because it’s probably worse for you—!”

“Jesus, Rey.” He draws a hand violently through his hair, gritting his teeth. “No — I — We can talk. I’m not...I’m not angry at you. I just...I just wish you wouldn’t do it here. Of all places.”

“Doing what?” She looks up at him, furious, hurt and he just -

— looks sad. Like he has given up. 

“I don’t want to fight you.” He says, jaw tight and eyes shimmering. “I hate fighting with you.”

And it makes her sad, because they do fight, they fight a lot, almost like they love to fight. It’s never serious (only sometimes) and it's often about dumb stuff, stupid stuff. 

She hates it. She hates that she loves having a soulmate. She hates that she has found the thing that she alway searched for. She hates how she misses Ben, misses every stupid thing about them, even the things that annoyed her.

So, she wraps her arms around him. Like he hadn’t done at all tonight, and she hates that she has to  _ take _ it. 

And almost like he knows that he has made her suffer, what he ought to have done, he relents and crushes her to him and then they kiss, soft and deep kisses. Desperate and wanting.

“I love you.”

It's not a goodbye.

“I love you too”

It’s not.

****

2015

  
  


Despite the air of promise and hopefulness when they fell asleep hand in hand, Rey would not say that anything had changed between them the following morning. 

She knows this, because when she awakes, she cannot recount a story of gentle touches and passionate kisses, or beaming smiles. Never to be alone again.

Because none of those things happened. None of them at all. 

He had woken up first, apparently, because he was in the bathroom, when she rubbed her eyes dry of sleep - her headache less than the day before, making her capable of actually  _ thinking _ .

And there are plenty to think about. Some topics are more important, like, does she like him? Why doesn’t she want him to leave? And does she actually want to pursue this? 

But those are not the thoughts Rey decides to entertain. Not when the bed is still warm next to her and she can remember how his chest softly rose and fell, his lips parted in an easy sleep. How she had, for a brief silent moment of being awake during the night, been able to map out the constellations of moles on his face. 

How strangely beautiful he looked in the darkness.

“Do you want coffee?”

Rey half jumps, having been so lost in her memories, that she failed to see Ben approach her, hair still damp from the shower. He cocks his head slightly to the side, as if repeating the question.

“Yes.” Rey hoarsely confirms, trying not to let her embarrassment show. Or how distracted she is by the wet curly waves of his hair.

He appears unfaced by their mutual confessions last night, expression stoic and for once well rested. 

And there it is, the circle they move in. One step forward, one step back, a petulant newton’s cradle between the two. 

Well, that’s until Ben changes the variable. Because as they step into the kitchen, and he concots them both way too strong coffee, he asks - mid yawn - 

“How did you sleep?”

Startled, genuinely shocked by the small, Rey stops sniffing the milk (to confirm if it is as expired as the label says), and turns her head up, only to find him looking at her. 

All patience and calm. Serene even. 

Does he seem...happy?

She swallows, “I did.”

A nod, nothing more, “And how’s the head?”

“A little sore.”

Another nod. He takes a sip from the coffee and looks away to pour over the content of her fridge. As if he has lived here for years.

Rey doesn’t want to dig deeper into the feelings of contentedness it wakes in her, the sight of him resting his elbow on the fridge door, sipping his coffee.

It looks too much like her childhood dreams of domesticity. 

“You?” She tries to ask, in an attempt at distracting herself. 

“My head?”

“Sleep.” 

For a brief second, he looks up from the blue fluorescent light, tensing his jaw, before going —

“It was -” he pauses, contemplating his words “—... _ nice _ .”

Yeah. Rey realises, while shyly looking away from his hungry gaze. Something has definitely  _ changed _ . 

  
  


****

And whether that change is for better or worse, Rey struggles to say. The air is ripe with something unspoken, something tense, threatening to burst open. 

But they settle into a rhythm of sorts, even manage to have some kind of small talk. Heck, one time he even makes her laugh (which prompts a very puzzling expression on his face) and she makes him smile, all open mouth and white crooked cheeks.

Her stomach is a mix of dread and a garden of summer butterflies, warring against each other. 

And there seem to be no resolution between them, only drawn out looks that Rey isn’t sure how to interpret. However, it is a peaceful enough cohabitation. Enough so that he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to leave. 

Leia calls sometime around noon, but Ben snatches the phone out of Rey’s hand (she’s not supposed to exert herself apparently) and resumes the call on her behalf. 

It’s hard to make out what they are talking about, mostly because it appears to be Leia talking a lot and Ben grunting a long.

Funny, how at first Rey couldn’t see the resemblance, yet now, as he stands, his fridge of a back turned to her, that she recognises Han and Leia. The defiance, the stubbornness and strange compassion. 

The way Han would grunt tiredly and the way Leia insistently asserts herself. 

It makes her smile. 

She’s not sure when such a simple thing like that made her smile.

Ben makes her smile. 

“I’ll call you later.” He sighs into the ancient Nokia, and ends the call. With frustrated hands he begins to fumble through the pockets of his jacket and retrieves a package of cigarettes, only to stop and look back over his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” He asks, showing her the crumbled red and white plastic case.

Rey nods. “I don’t have a balcony. But you can open the window.”

Frowning, he looks at the window, before thinking better of himself. “No. I’ll … I’ll just go downstairs.”

She considers it for a moment. Him standing in the cold, and the buzzer doesn’t work and the door locks when slammed and —

“I’ll come with you.” Rey decides, standing up from the bed and picking up her discarded winter coat. “I could use some air.”

And that’s how they end up standing below the half cover of the garages, inspecting her bike.

“How did you learn to ride a motorcycle?” Ben asks, exhaling the cigarette smoke through his nostrils, as he walks around her old piece of machinery. Probably spotting its cracked paint and multiple dents. 

Who cares when it drives like a dream?

Rey looks away from the falling snow to him over her shoulder, his expression unreadable. 

It’s an easy answer.

“Weren’t any busses where I grew up. And I couldn’t afford a car.” She runs a hand over the leather seat that is in desperate need of polish. “— so I built this baby. From scrap at the junkyard.”

“You...build it? From scrap?” He genuinely sounds impressed.

“Yeah.”

And for the first time since she’s known him, he appears….surprised. “That’s...really impressive.”

Beaming, Rey puffs her chest and grins. And perhaps it is the breakfast he cooked for her or the way she had slept through the night, but the tender look in his eyes gives her a good feeling in her stomach.

Something akin to buzzing butterflies and rain after the dry season.

Until he asks, “Where did you grow up?”

She hesitates, nail picking on a loose thread.

“Jakku.”

A pause.

“That explains things.” Ben says a loud, but it feels almost like a confession to himself than to her.

“Explains what?”

“How resilient you are.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flame. 

It is funny, Rey realises, to suddenly meet someone who doesn’t always equal Jakku to pity, pain, and suffering. To hero complexes and misunderstandings by well intentioned people. Or, not only that.

Because her past is unchangeable. They cannot mend the wounds inflicted on a little girl who grew up an orphan and had to steal food to survive. 

Ben seems to agree with that. 

Even with all her bagage and trauma, he somehow manages to see all the good things she  _ still _ is.

Which is probably the reason why she’s bold enough to suggest —

“I can take you for a ride in the spring.”

The cigarette burns as he takes another drag, but not without raising an eyebrow at her suggestion. Slightly taken aback. 

It makes the butterflies flutter a little less. 

“If you want to.” She cautiously adds.

He’s silent for a moment, looking somewhere between her and the bike.

“Yeah. I do.”

  
  


****

Rey’s headache is gone. Her head is clear.

She tells Ben that much, after they come back up, half expecting him to take it as her officially releasing him to go about his day. To return home and change his clothes.

There are signs that he is about to, for a few hours he is slowly padding around her small studio collecting his meager belongings and putting them into his bag. They talk a little, he even cracks a joke and it all appears to be the end of their strange connection, their 24 hours of forced camaraderie turned into compassion. 

And no more will she feel Ben Solo’s arms around her as she sleeps. 

It makes her sad to think about, a cruel twist of destiny. 

Yes, it all appears to be the end. An end with no resolution.

What is the loss though? He is not her soulmate. 

He’s  _ not _ her soulmate. 

Standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, she watches him slowly tie his shoes. They can no longer prevent the inevitable. 

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Rey asks in an attempt at small talk. 

Ben finishes tying his shoes from his spot on her foldable chair, and glances up ather through his lashes. Muscles straining under the dress shirt he has been wearing for what...two-three days now?

He must be 50 percent fridge, 50 percent comforter. 

“Nothing.” He begins, wetting his lips, “We don’t celebrate.”

“You don’t celebrate?”

“Yeah. Mom and…— they were always too busy. Also we are Jewish.”

Rey drums her finger against the the counter she’s leaning against, feeling somewhat stupid, as if she didn’t already know that. “Oh.” 

His shoulders rise in a deep breath, eyes unwavering on her. 

“You?”

She shrugs, swinging her foot back and forth. “I think I’ll order pizza — and maybe watch some Netflix.”

This makes him frown. “You don’t have...anyone you go to?”

Anyone to go to? How on Earth does this man seem to see straight through her at times and other times he is painfully, childishly, oblivious. 

“I’m new in the city. Don’t know a lot of people and —” Rey pauses, “What did your mom say about me?”

It takes him a moment to answer, “Not a lot. I mostly heard rumours.”

“I see.” Rey scratches her cheek, not quite feeling ready to open that box. Even if she suspects he might understand. “Yeah. There’s no one. But it’s fine.”

For the first time since yesterday a pregnant silence envelops the room, with Ben staring at his feet and Rey just looking... anywhere else. 

Ben abruptly pulls off his shoes, throws them halfway across the room and stands up. A furious, even enraged expression on his face. 

“Can I stay?” He asks, even though Rey isn’t really sure if he means it as a question.

“Here?”

“Yes.” A swallow. “For Christmas.”

Rey draws in a shaking exhale, really, really unsure as to what is happening right now.

But she knows she doesn’t want him to leave. 

Yet, the words are stuck on her tongue.

Which is probably why he looks more and more panicky and lost by each second.

And then he just goes insane.

“You won’t be alone, if you let me stay.”

Rey rasps, “ _ What _ .” 

The chair he’s sitting on is not too far away, but it’ll at least take him a few steps to reach her. Then how come she doesn’t see him rise and go towards her, before she has to crane her neck up to see him. His warm and wide chest so close to hers, enfolding her, pressing her into her tiny kitchen.

He  _ whispers _ , “I’ll let you kiss me, so you’ll be less alone.”

It’s all going so fast, so strange, he what? And he smells so good, why does he smell so good.

“Just for Christmas.” He adds, reaching up to cup her cheeks. His palms feel scalding against her skin. 

It makes her dizzy. 

“What about you?” Rey stupidly exhales, “how you’ll be less alone?”

“I’m not alone, when you kiss me.”

Her heart slams against her ribs, a train gone off the rails. Going faster than her brain, her eyes, because even though it feels like time has slowed down, she can’t remember when his palm reached down to cradle her neck. 

Or when his lips found hers.

She only remembers that they are kissing. Glorious kissing. Even if they are standing in her stupid kitchen, and his nose blows hot air on her cheekbone. 

Because they are  _ kissing _ .

_ He _ is kissing her.

Yeah.

Something has definitely changed.

  
  


****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This train ride is about to get real steamy - and angsty.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **awkwaaaard**
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 8

****

2020

  
  


They’re making out in the Uber as if they are two strangers who just met. High on endorphins, minds clouded by fizzy sweet alcohol and bodies that have been denied for over a month now. They were doomed to spill over at some point - either into tears or into bed.

Rey is pleased that it is the latter. Especially since Ben is more than a little handsy, trailing a hand up her thigh to cup her sex, a knuckle tracing the wetness of the lace. She yelps into his mouth, a mix between laughter and genuine surprise, but also — a deep cutting sadness. To realise that she had forgotten just how good he can make her feel, how it feels to have his hands adore her and his undivided attention.

It almost,  _ almost _ , makes her forget how terrible the evening at his company function had been. The fight and the hurt. The judgment and stares. It had seemed to drag on, never-ending, until Ben had started to nurse a whiskey.

“I love you, so, so much.” His breath fans across her neck, as he bites the words into her soft skin.

She can spy the Uber driver glancing back at them, indifferent to their voyeurism. He has probably seen worse, less — tame seduction, but her rating is bound to take a dive regardless, considering the vigor with which Ben gropes her breasts and whispers obscene things into flesh.

Any other day Rey might have been more prudish, but the fact that he wants her. Wants to  _ fuck her _ — it makes her happy. Oh so happy. She couldn’t care less about prying eyes.

The driver coughs insistently, the moment they arrive at their little town house, hands tight on the leather steering wheel.

It’s all Ben needs to throw open the door, and carry her up the stairs to the front door. 

Rey giggles, nosing his jaw. His cheeks dimple, a laugh threatening to burst forward from his throat, as he struggles to unlock the door. 

It should have warned her, this sudden easy happiness between them.

He stumbles inside, carrying her across the threshold to their home, shutting the door close with his heel and Rey snakes her arms tightly around his neck. 

The hallway is dark, only lit temporarily by the few passing cars. Illuminating his back, making him appear angelic. They stare at each other, shimmering eyes, as they catch their breath, him holding her like his precious  _ bride _ .

They seem to realise that at the same time.Their passion complicit in their hurt. 

Ben sobers up, just enough to stop smiling and put her gently down on the floor. Rey doesn’t want that, she wants him to carry her forever, so she keeps her arms locked around his neck. Insistent, trying to get her needs across from the way she desperately clings to him.

“I don’t think…— it’s a good idea.” His whisper hurts.

Rey steps back, pulling him in the direction of the stairs. Towards their soft bed, with their favorite bedspread. 

“Please.” She begs. 

“I’m not — I’m too —.” His breath catches, as she sucks a bruise on his Adam’s Apple, stopping him from saying his excuse.  _ As if that has ever stopped him before.  _

She makes another attempt — “I need you.” To which he groans, like a wounded animal, bending over to clutch her tightly. It’s almost painful how much they want each other. How much they insist on hurting each other. “Ben. Please.”

It isn’t a yes per se, but it isn’t an explicit no either, he simply lets her tug him up the stairs and into the bedroom. Hunched over her form like a miserable animal, ashamed, but also wanting. He wants it.

The moonlight is enough to illuminate the room, so Rey doesn’t turn on the light, a part of her afraid to ruin whatever mood that makes him amiable enough for this. 

He leans down and presses a shy kiss on her lips, as if testing the waters, gauging his own reaction.

She hums,  _ loudly _ . Probably louder than she really feels, but it's working, because it spurs him on. His hands grab her by the elbows, holding her close as he deepens the kiss. It makes her dizzy, the extent of her desire for him, her love for him.

But kissing isn’t enough. 

With a soft shove, she pushes him down and into the bed, before desperately tugging off her dress, her shoes. She’s met with silence, but not inattention. He rests on his arms, lounging in the bed as he watches her seduction. Her ungraceful, desperate, striptease. 

His eyes are so dark. His breathing labored. Rey bites her lip, feeling very much like a little girl, as she slides off her lace bra, her wet lace panties. 

“I’ve missed you. Missed this,” Rey rasps, stepping between his legs. 

A tremble goes through him. 

He looks scared. 

Can’t have that.

With years of practise, Rey falls to her knees and slides her hands up his thighs. The way he likes it. Gracing the seams, caressing the bulge in his pants. He closes his eyes, breathing shallow breaths. There’s a wickedness in her when she gazes up at him and leans forward to give his clothed cock a generous open mouth kiss.

“Rey.” He chokes, fisting the sheets. 

Unbuckling his belt, she sighs, “ _ Ben _ .” and undoes the buttons and zipper. 

He’s silent for a moment, as if paralyzed, unable to stop her from tugging off his pants and underwear, unable to stop the kiss she presses to the red and swollen tip. And then another. And another. 

A groan escapes him, the moment she trades her kisses with her full mouth, taking him skillfully. Because she’s done this before. Many times. She knows what he likes, she knows how much he enjoys her licking that particular vein, or how she sucks on his head. Tight, and hard.

He sighs deep from his throat, and lies back and stares onto the ceiling while Rey caresses and takes care of his poor cock. Neglected and lonely for so long. 

And there’s a part of her, a secret one, that hopes if she gives him the blow job of his life, that he’ll realise how good they are together. How perfect they fit, that he wants her, needs her.

That he won't let her be alone.

She stirs at the feeling of his fingers threading through her hair, far too gentle from the way she’s currently sucking on his cock. Too pure compared to the leering way she’s taking him, worshipping him. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He exhales reverently, all flushed cheeks and adoration. “I’ve never met anyone as gorgeous as you.” Now leaning on his elbows, watching her.

Rey blinks up at him, still popping up and down, when his thumb brushes over her cheek, and then to her mouth. “ _ Perfect _ .” 

But he doesn’t say it like he’s happy, no. He sounds...like…

“ _ Ben _ .” Rey whines, as she releases his cock with a pop, and crawls up his lap. 

He watches her with a somber casualness, as someone who has accepted his fate, although Rey can’t say what fate that is, and just lets her do what she wants. She positions herself over his cock, her cunt warm and wet, but her heart is afraid. Cold.

A hand settles on her stomach, tracing a secret pattern over her flushed skin. 

“Can I fuck you?” he asks, like a child begging his parent for permission. But there’s none of the usual passion, none of the urgency with which he always seems to struggle with. No. He’s calm and sober.

Rey watches him, brows furrowing, perhaps he’s drunker than she thought, for him to be this passive. He absentmindedly, unaware of her churning thoughts, brushes his hand up her toned stomach, and to her breast, pinching her nipple just... _ right _ .

“I like fucking you.” He adds. 

It’s all Rey needs to hear. All the confirmation she has wanted, even if it sounds more like a sad recollection than a passionate declaration. It’s enough, for now. 

He groans loudly, the moment she sinks down on him, letting him fill her to the brim. There’s a slight burn as he stretches her cunt, and normally they would’ve done more to prepare her, make her ready for him. But tonight isn’t about pleasure, this isn’t about getting that divine orgasm.

No. This. This is showing him how good they are. 

“ _ Oh _ . Ben.” Rey moans, pressing her hands down on his chest, keeping him there, safe and sound, as she shallowly rides him, taking his cock even deeper. “Fuck.”

He groans a reply, digging his nails into her hips, guiding her movements. 

“So big—” She whines, drawing her nails down his chest as she rises to look at him. His pupils are dilated, big and burning, centered right at her breasts, where her nipples peak into the cold night. 

She arches her back in reply, presenting him with what he wants to see, inviting him to touch her, needing him to love her. 

His breath stutters and he swallows her with his gaze, their almost one-month abstinence since that horrible meeting with Finn catching up with him too. It’s never been this long, never and he is struggling to keep it together. To not expire on the spot.

Exactly. Yes.

Rey draws her hips back, enjoying the grunts he is unable to keep in as she slowly slides up and down in the most delicious way. The drunkenness in his eyes and his sweaty hair is still lingering, but now there’s something else too. 

“More,” he bites, struggling to not take charge, to not tip her over. It makes her smirk and she leans down to whisper.

“As you wish.” Before circling her arms around his head, bringing her tits to his face for him to suckle on, which he happily does, as Rey starts to move faster, coming down on his cock with desperate cries, drawn-out moans. 

“I missed you”, Rey whispers into his ear, relishing in the way he shutters below her, how he begins to nudge her hips to go even faster. He wants her, always has and she is reminding him of that with the slide of her hips, that it's just them, just the two of them forever. “- I missed you so much...” 

With no warning, he flips them over, trapping her beneath his wide chest as he  _ pounds _ into her, harder, bordering on  _ cruel _ , teeth scraping at her collarbone. She slips her arms around his shoulders to anchor herself, as he  _ takes _ her. Burying her into  _ their _ sea of sheets.

They are adrift, lost to their desire for each other. 

Where they belong.

“I love you.” She breathes into his hair, his warm black hair. And it makes his hips stutter, makes him tremble.

Rey beams, made up of pure happiness, enough so that she can feel an orgasm building, prickling at her skin.

And then he  _ sobs _ . 

Rey blinks, feeling a distinct wetness pool on her neck.

“Ben?” She asks, turning her head to the side in an attempt to see him. “Ben? Are you okay?”

He stops thrusting, and she can feel his breath growing erratic. His shoulders shaking — but not from pleasure.

“I can’t.” He finally says.

Scrambling, he slips out and hastily scavenges for his clothes on the floor. Too lost to her desire, Rey fails to recognise his distress for a second, but as soon as she realised what had happened, she sits up, wide-eyed — and scared. He’s buttoning his pants-

“What do you mean?” She doesn’t want to shout the words, “Ben. What do you mean?!”

His breath hitches, as he sits on his heels on the floor, hands pulling on his hair. The sobs are still there, wrecking his body, but he hides them, as if ashamed.

“What’s the point, Rey?” his watery voice whispers into the room. Maybe to him. Maybe to her.

But the words have been said.

He can’t take them back.

“I don’t...understand?” 

Ben sniffs, brushing his palm across his nose “I don’t even know why we are doing this - this - pretend ...” 

Shame is not something unfamiliar to Rey, but it had been a feeling that was easy to brush off in the face of hunger. When she really had better things to worry about than everyone’s socially constructed opinions of her. 

Yet, in this moment, as she lies on the bed they have shared for five years, naked as the day she was born, sweat from their brief thrust drying on her skin, Rey feels  _ ashamed _ . 

_ Bone-cutting deep shame _ . 

And it makes her angry. 

“ _ Pretend _ ? What are you on about!”

He peaks at her through his fingers, eyes red and swollen, but not kind.

“I’m not your soulmate, Rey.” he says the words as if that is an answer. As if that explains anything.

“And I love you!” she counters, sitting up and wrapping herself in the blanket. Skin burning with irritation, making her head swim.

With a growl, he stands to his feet, “And what difference does that make!? I am not _ the one  _ for you!”

“Ben!” 

“I don’t need your pity!” The words are loaded with venom, of years of pent up hurt and frustration. Of scars that never healed. “And— don’t stay out of obligation. Don’t stay because of what we ... _ were _ .” His voice breaks and the tears shimmer. “You’re just stalling the inevitable.”

Rey is gaping. Actually gaping. Is he...what is he trying to say.

“Ben.” She says his name in warning. “I don’t want to be angry right now. But you are making me very angry. Why aren’t you listening - the wedding — the —”

“Just stop it!” He yells, throwing his hands down in frustration “You are always in denial. Aren’t you?! About your parents —”

“My parents have nothing to do with this!”

“They do!” He tightens his belt, shaking his head. “You deny it. You might not even leave me for….him today, but you will. One day you will! Everything else until that is just a game...a ruse.”

“This is crazy. Finn is into men!”

“Then why isn’t his soulmate a  _ guy _ ?” He  _ snarls _ the words, “Why is his soulmate  _ you _ ? A girl.” 

Rey throws her hands into the air, exasperated “I don’t know! I don’t know everything.”

Which turns out to not be the right answer. But Rey doesn’t know that. 

All she knows is that her answer stops him. He looks at her, a tear trails a path down his cheek, and Rey gets the distinct feeling that he’s memorizing her. Storing this moment into some traumatic place along with parental neglect and childhood loneliness. 

He sniffs once, and then he stomps out and slams the door.

Leaving Rey  _ alone _ . 

  
  


****

2015

Her lips are swollen. Bruised and battered. Her neck is ravaged, his horrible crime visible to the naked eye. 

Her heart is full, when he finally pulls away. 

Blinking her eyes open, she takes in his contented almost lost expression. Mouth still pouting, eyes glazed over as if struck. 

She reaches up and touches his cheek, perhaps to bring him back to her, perhaps to savor this moment. It makes her cheeks dimple, makes her practically glow. All out of breath and fizzy inside. 

He exhales, and then breaks into a wide bright smile. 

"Is… —" Ben chuckles, pressing his forehead to hers. "—... That a yes?" 

"What?" Rey blurts, too caught up with tracing his bruised lips with her thumb. 

"Can I stay?"

It isn't even a question any longer. She nuzzles her nose against his, too caught up in her happiness to wonder if it is too familiar. 

"Yeah. You can stay." But his rejection from earlier still stings, still haunts her. "I thought… you didn't like me." The words are whispered against his cheek. 

He tenses, enough for her to know her confession holds some truth. 

"No." he begins, circling his arms around her, pressing her tightly into him. "I do like you. A lot. I'm just… - - you're so young. And I'm so…  _ fucked _ up." 

"I know." Rey sighs, but it's with an understanding smile.

"And I'm not your soulmate." 

"I know." she rests her head against his shoulder. 

She couldn't care less. 

He's here. 

And no one else is.

She’s not alone.

  
  


****

  
  


No matter how much Rey wants to drag him down on her mattress and have her way with him, he does have a point when he explains that they need to be careful (webmd tells her to avoid “strenuous activities”) and he's in desperate need of new clothes.

She watches him from the window as he turns on the ignition of his car and drives away into the horizon. It's an awful feeling, even if he had kissed her plenty before leaving. 

Because what if he doesn't come back? 

What if he changes his mind? 

Will she wake up to doctors poking her arm again? Asking her where is he? 

No.

No.

This is not like that Rey concedes, straightening her back and stretching her limbs. 

He said he’d be back, he’d buy groceries too, stock up for the holidays. Even if he looked mildly daunted at the prospect of figuring out exactly what that’d entail.

So Rey cleans, suddenly too aware of the mess that is her home. It’s not like she enjoys cleaning, she hates it. What is the point anyway? Things are gonna get messy despite her attempts at cleaning!

Yet, some hidden nesting abilities must still be inside of her, because it bursts forth with an energy with which she has never done before. She opens the windows, letting the fresh winter air in. She cleans the toilet, heck - she even decalcifies her coffee maker.

But eventually, you run out of things to clean in a studio apartment. And then there’s just waiting.

Terrible waiting.

And loneliness. 

The fear that he’s not gonna show crawling like insects under her skin. Making her doubt everything and everyone. Until —-

He knocks softly on the door, before turning the key she had given him. 

Rey is up on her feet so fast her head spins, eyes burning into the door’s faded painting, finding herself out of breath, out of heartbeats.

The door swings open, and he steps inside, drying off his shoes because they are wet from the snow. In his arms there are bags, several ones and on his other shoulder …—

— a black sports bag. As if he intends to stay longer.

She stops breathing for a minute, very aware of the implications of that, and then he looks up at her. 

Black hair sticking with tiny snowflakes, cheeks bitten by the cold, and his lips, plump and red. 

He looks like ...a prince. 

“Hi.” She hears herself rasp, her smile insecure and wavering.

“Hi.” His voice is soft and shy.

They stand like that for several breaths, her in her pajamas, him in his expensive overcoat, with melting snow in his hair. Almost as if they are strangers who just met.

But they aren’t strangers. Yet, something is different, the air is ripe with something, a promise of tenderness and closeness — and pleasure.

Rey flips her head to the side, “I cleaned…,” and it is suddenly so difficult looking him in the eye. All too sudden, too much.

His boots hit the floor, and with small steps he moves to the kitchen table, depositing his bags of groceries, inspecting her small apartment.

“Looks nice.”

“Thank you.” She cradles her neck with her palm, eyes switching between his and his feet. 

“I …—” A swallow. “— I bought a tree.”

This makes her look at him, really look at him. “A tree?” 

From one of the bags, he pulls out a long brightly colored box, no bigger than the length of his forearm and on the side of it, a small Christmas tree is displayed.

He attempts a smile, clearly unsure about this impromptu gift, all-white crooked teeth, and boyish pride.

“No Christmas without a tree?”

It looks cheap, disposable, made of plastic, and with a big ‘’discount’’ sticker on the side of it.

She has to kiss him for that.

  
  


****

It turns out that Ben knows how to cook. And with that she means, he cooks well. He's meticulous in a way she'll never be.

He chops the vegetables carefully, measures things and tastes it throughout. And Rey. Rey just stands next to him, nursing her wine and watching him cook. Her cheeks flushed, a combination of the liquor and… the way his shirt stretches when he bends his biceps. 

Especially that.

They talk a lot, and not about anything substantial. It is as if they in secret mutually agreed that tonight certain topics are off the table. 

So instead they linger and relax, exchanging kisses whenever the urge becomes too hard to ignore. Trading smiles for laughter and banter. 

It is disgustingly easy how they fall into an easy domestic cohabitation. 

And especially how much Rey  _ likes _ it.

The Christmas tree sits in the middle of her floor, and in his somewhat dazed state, Ben had missed that it sings a toon. A dreadful one. It's modulator mechanical and cheaply made, making the voice sound robotic and alien. 

Rey keeps playing it and sings a long, dancing even slightly, to which Ben simply smiles, as he pokes the potatoes with a knife.

They eat his dinner on her floor next to the ugly plastic thing, letting it serenade them as they stuff themselves with potatoes, meats and some strange cabbage. The stores were out of stock of ...many things, Ben tries to excuse, but Rey just shakes her head.

It’s a Christmas she’s never had.

And probably never will again.

They roll onto her mattress, too full to care about other things, clutching their stomachs in mock hurt. Not even space for dessert.

A perfect ending to a perfect day, Rey muses, as she twists onto her side, nuzzling her nose into Ben’s shoulder. He smells nice. Wonderful.

“Never again.” He complains to no one in particular, rubbing his hand over his aching tummy. 

Her cheeks dimple in reply, and she sighs. “Thank you.”

“Not yet.” Ben sits up and then stands, as if realising he had forgotten something, and shuffles over to his sports bag in the corner. 

By her elbow, Rey lifts herself from the mattress, watching through half-lidded eyes, already halfway to sleeping through her pained stomach. 

Were it not for the wrapped box he places between them.

"It's… for you." 

He sits down next to her, his eyes focused on her reaction, shyly and afraid.

Rey pushes herself up by her hand and stares at the dark case with a golden ribbon. He bought her a present.

Why does that make her feel awful?

He bumps it with his finger, cheeks stained red. “Don’t. Think too hard about it.” It makes her want to laugh, are there any other ways to _ think _ about it? “— Please. Open it.” 

A moment passes, before Rey cautiously leans over and unwraps the silk ribbon, letting it fall on the mattress below, and with shaking hands, takes the lid off the box.

It's a jacket.

A winter jacket. With a fur lining, in bright red.

It looks….gorgeous.

And extremely expensive.

“Ben...” Rey begins, not really sure what to say. Thank you? It’s too much? You can’t just do this to me? You don’t even know me?

“Do you like it?”

Still trembling, her hands cradle the soft jacket and lift it so as to inspect the coat in its entirety — and blocking Ben from her view.

The tears already burn as she does her best not to show her churning emotions behind the red cotton, how extremely happy — and  _ angry _ , she feels.

“I’ll — ” Still hiding her face with the coat, she runs and slips into her tiny bathroom. The wetness now freely trailing down her cheeks. She sits on the toilet, rubbing the fabric of the coat with her thumbs, but not really looking at it.

Staring somewhere into the wall, gaze unfocused.

Her heart yearning and turning with frustration and gratitude.

She knows she doesn’t have a lot of money! She knows she’s poor and that she isn’t born with an instant trust fund, but what she has she has earned! She has fought for it!

And here he comes, and just — buys her a coat, that probably costs more than her rent.

Is he saying she can’t take care of herself? Is he mocking her? Knowing she doesn’t have a gift for him? What if she hadn't liked the color. What if—-

Rey sighs to herself, exhaling her fears into the bathroom and let’s her head rest against the cold tiles.

Because in the end, regardless of her own wishes and _his_ desires, she had needed a new coat — desperately. 

_ You gotta let people help you, sometimes, _ Han had once grumbled, as he had saved her from ruining his and Leia’s kitchen in an attempt at baking a cake.

Still, Ben had already done so much, and she had just— had she even done anything?

Before her rationality can get the better off her, Rey tugs off her t-shirt and slides off her shorts — and then her panties, throwing them somewhere into the shower itself. And then, with trembling hands, puts on her new red over coat, fingers slipping on the buttons as she closes it.

Sex is not a foreign territory for Rey, but her previous encounters had never truly been instigated by her. It always either felt like a, do we have anything better to do? Rather than active persuasion and seduction. 

Thus, she swings the door open, consciously ignoring her anxiety screaming in her ear and steps out into the room.

Ben looks up from his spot on the mattress, trying to mask his obvious overthinking and gives her a small smile.

“Looks good on you.”

Rey swallows, and takes a step closer to him, the inevitable nervousness slowly overcoming her.

“It’s too much.”

He hums dismissively, “Maybe.” And there’s no mistaking it, he’s glancing at her legs, trailing their shapes.

“It made me feel bad.” 

This makes him look up, mouth downturning. “Why?”

“I don’t like charity.” She steps so she’s standing directly in front of him, enough so that he has to look up to see her face. “I can make it on my own.”

Annoyed, he explains, “It’s just a gift.”

“But I don’t have a gift for you.” Her chest shudders below the coat, as she gently tells him her doubts. 

Her thumb brushes over a button, the polished plastic, and then, before he can distract her, to tell her no, she unbuttons the coat and lets it slide down her arms, so it rests at her elbows. 

The apartment isn’t cold per se, but it isn’t insulated well, and there is always a cold draft escaping from somewhere. It brushes over her bare skin, her small breasts, and stiffens her nipples.

But Rey feels anything but cold. It feels as if her veins have been set on fire, pulsing around her body, making her short of breath, flushed — and shy.

It takes him more than a moment to say anything, his mouth just mildly parted as he takes in the sight in front of him. Her paling brown summer skin, and the freckles. Does he hate it? Is she that ugly?

“Rey.” He begins, drawing in a heavy breath. His hands fist the duvet cover. “What are you doing?”

Biting her lip, she considers for a moment his question, and in the end, the answer isn’t that complicated. It’s rather simple.

“I want to fuck you.”

A shiver goes through him, and he swallows.

It spurs her on. And she takes a step so she’s standing between his legs, looking down at him, who is doing his best to focus on her face.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” It comes out as a hoarse shy whisper, rather than sounding like the seductress she imagines she is. 

His jaw tenses, and he actually appears to be thinking over her inquiry, weighing the pros and cons.

And just as she has convinced herself that he is gonna reject her, she feels a hand crawl up the side of her right calf. Tickling her skin, making her breathless. It circles her leg, and clings to it like a vine.

“ _ Please _ .” Which sounds more like a command, than begging.

The coat slides off and Rey falls to her knees, practically pulling his face to hers as she grants him a kiss. Slanting her sore lips hard over his.

No hesitation this time. They’ve wasted too much time.

He groans, sliding his hand further up her naked leg and settles it just below her ass, fingers tracing dangerously close to her cunt. The tease of it borders on burning, even if she can fill the wetness trickle down her inner thigh.

“Perfect.” He breathes against her mouth, beckoning her to open, to which she easily abides. Letting him kiss her deeper, letting him make her soul  _ buzz _ . “So beautiful.”

Breaking for air, Rey pulls back to glance at him. Praising herself for his reddened cheeks, his breathlessness. With a newly found confidence, Rey swings her knees over the side of his hips, pressing herself down on his clothed hardness.

He moans, “God”, grinding up against her. “I should have given you a coat a long time ago.”

A coat? As if it is the coat which is making her rub against him, makes her breath shorten, makes her want to see more.

Her hand grasps at the dress shirt he’s wearing, frantically pulling on the buttons, to which he blissfully lets her. Himself more occupied with caressing her soft bottom and the back of her thighs. His fingers baiting, but never quite  _ getting there _ . 

She arches her back into his hold, tugging his shirt down and over his shoulders and arms. Desperate. 

“I would have done this without a coat.” He licks a trail up her throat, as she hums her confession. 

A breathy laugh, “Really?” He shakes his shoulder to help her get him naked.

“Yeah.” his muscles are transfixing, hypnotising, and she has to touch. She has to. “Wanted to since the elevator.”

His finger, thick and soft -  _ finally _ \- drags through her folds. It feels amazing, good, like nothing else.

“The elevator.” his voice rumbles against her throat, which only makes her wetter. When had the voice of someone else made her this compliant, this ready, this fast? 

“I’ve wanted this since you cursed me out at the funeral.” He comments with a dark chuckle. “Han’s good son fantasizing about his adopted daughter.”

Rey is about to say something, correct him, scold him, but then he presses his finger inside, curling it like he has known her cunt all his life, known exactly where he needs to touch.

Or it feels like that at least, and she  _ groans _ . 

A groan that her neighbours cannot confuse for anything else than her getting thoroughly fingered on her ancient childish bedspread by a giant brooding man. 

“You looked so angry. So furious.” He bites the words into her shoulder, while his thumb presses and rubs against her clit. Its funny, how Rey had said she was gonna fuck him, but as he places his free hand on her hip, guiding it so she rides on his hand, it is clear that she is not the one in control.

She’s the one getting fucked.

But who cares about semantics? Especially when your weird crush mouths on your breasts like a starving man. Like you are the thing that can clench his thirst.

“More.” She begs, digging her nails into his shoulders. “Ben. Please.”

He presses in another finger, stretching her, massaging her sensitive cunt, and the pressure is almost unbearable. Almost. 

It’s not enough.

Desperate, she presses his arm away, scooting back to unbuckle his belt, and it takes him several dazed blinks before he catches her drift. 

Rey didn’t know it was possible to throw your pants off this fast. 

“Condom.” he manages to remind himself, fumbling for his wallet in the back pocket of his discarded trousers. All while Rey kisses his neck, and tugs impatiently on his underwear. And a part of her is excited to see it, to know this part of him too. Even if she has always found the penis in itself weird and strange.

It bops as she frees it, flushed and angry. Looking almost as desperate as she feels now, burning all hot at the prospect of...yeah.

She caresses it with her knuckle as an owner would their pet. And she feels pity, seeing it so hard and needy, how much it wants her. Ben pants above her, watching her hand like a hawk. The condom is still untorn in his hand.

"What would have happened if I didn't hit my head." Rey thinks out loud, wrapping her hand around his length. It pulses against her palm. Eager. 

He's biting his lips, too caught up in the pleasure of her attention, but manages to groan. "We'd get here anyway. It was inevitable." 

She takes the condom out of his hand as he speaks, rolling it down while she kisses him into silence. He doesn't appear to mind, fingers bruising her waist. 

"Like destiny?" she suggests, as she lifts herself over him. Letting the tip of him drag through her folds, coating him in her wetness, as if she's marking him.  _ Mine. Mine. Mine.  _

"No." Ben pants. "Destiny has nothing to do with it." he moves below her so he's resting on his knees, and experimentally pushes up, grinding into her desperately.

She’s wet enough, but it's not a smooth glide, and he has to pump into her a few times, stretching her, all while she clings to his shoulder for leverage. Letting this happen, letting him have her.

“What is it then?” Rey breathes against his wonderful hair, struggling to stay focused on his words. How can she? When his cock is filling her so good, when he’s cradling her in his arms like something precious.

They move together like a tandem, Ben moans against her skin, his sweet parted mouth slanting across the sweat condensing there. Drunk on her, desperate. Afraid and in awe of what is happening. Momentarily distracted by her question. 

And even she forgets it, because it has never felt like this. Her previous encounters had been rudimentary, a young lonely girl’s boring attempts at entertaining herself. No this, this…—

— explodes into colors, cascading into a long drawn out groan, as Rey cums on his cock. Fast and hard. Her limbs tremble and Ben almost sobs, overwhelmed.

Then he exhales, “like home.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. The angst is gonna hit hard now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Aqua rates this chapter 8/10 on the angst train. 
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 9

****

2020

#    
  


It’s 5 am in the morning and Rey hasn't gotten a wink of sleep.

Not that she had tried to. She had spent the better of the night arguing with herself over whether she needed to chase him or if she was gonna wait for him to realize his mistake, and come back. 

It had been an interesting passage of time, reminiscent of a fever - her body converting between fuming, burning with a wave of anger so intense she might smash something to a deep chilling coldness, where nothing makes sense and the tears won’t come. Numb.

In the end, she hadn’t gone downstairs and he hadn’t come upstairs. But she knows he didn’t leave, because the front door squeaks terribly. And knowing that, feeling that within her soul, that he willingly left her with no remorse, breaks her heart. 

A dark twisted hole buries itself in her chest, leaves her breathless.

This can’t go on. She knows that, and there’s only one thing left to do, if she wants to save them.

As she cautiously threads down the stairs, she wishes she had slept, because for what she has to do, she needs to remain clear-headed. Frame her words concisely. To be courageous. Even if it is the worst thing has ever had to gather courage for.

The worst thing she’ll ever do. That she knows.

But if she harbours any hope for them to stay together, she knows they need help.

For once in her life, the sheer presence of Ben hasn’t solved her problems. This time it won’t ease her fears to have him kiss the crown of her head and wrap his arms around her.

It is a strange unnerving feeling, having him be the source of her concerns. 

She peeks into the living room, and in the darkness she can vaguely make out the blanket he has slept with and a dented pillow. Did he hope that she would come? Did he twist and turn, waiting for the stairs to creak? Like she did.

It's with that hope, Rey walks to the kitchen, where a small yellow light is shining from below the door. He too probably hasn't slept.

She softly pushes it open with her shoulder, blinking against the harsh yellow light, only to find the most beautiful person she knows cooking bacon. At 5 am in the morning.

Her breathing prickles, as she gathers her courage, and carefully prods.

“Ben?” 

It’s impossible for him to not have heard her, the house is so old it creaks and groans at the slightest change. Still, at the sound of his name, he visibly tenses, squaring his shoulders and briefly forgetting to turn the bacon.

He doesn’t say anything.

Even if there’s a lot to say, Rey thinks.

She supposes she has to take the first step then.

“Last night —” a swallow, a weird attempt at calming her heart. “— Last night, when you left.  _ That really hurt me.” _

His fist clenches around the spatula, but he’s silent as the grave.

“I wish. You would have just talked to me. Instead of...just letting it simmer.” Rey blinks against her tears, willing them to go away. “I thought. We were better than that.”

There’s a soft whine coming from him, like a pathetic creature, standing there, hunched over his burning meat — but he still doesn’t respond. 

Maybe it's for the better. Letting her say what she came to say.

Her finger picks at the kitchen counter, pulling on a loose piece of wood. 

“And— because of that. How off track we have gotten…”  _ Gosh. Why is it so hard to say? _ “Maybe — we should — be apart for a while. See a counselor—”

“Why?”

Rey gazes up from the counter, blinking at how gentle his voice is, yet his words cut her like a knife. He still won’t look at her.

“It won’t change anything.” He repeats his words from last night, spitting them. “—  _ this _ . Will never go away!”

That glimmer of confident hope with which she walked into the room fades, and there’s only one thing to ask. “I...don’t understand?”

It’s easy to imagine his expression, frustrated, jaw moving, when he says “We can spend a hundred years apart. We can go to counseling. We can have —  _ fuck I don’t know _ — an open relationship?” He transfers the bacon to a plate, far too composed. “— but it won’t change  _ anything. _ ”

One time Rey got hit by a bike in Jakku. 

The rider missed her as she crossed the street and the fall to the pavement broke her arm in three places. She was 14. And never, had anything felt so painful. 

Ben’s words, especially the unsaid, feels like that. Painful, her mind empty, all resemblance of coherence gone the moment her mental concrete hits her with one single terrible thought.

“Are you… are we breaking up?”

This makes him turn to look at her, but she can’t face whatever expression he is wearing. And she doesn’t understand, and she’s not sure exactly why. He had been hinting at this for weeks now. Her every attempt at confirming their affection and love, almost desperately, was either ignored or outright rejected. 

Have they always been going down this path? All along have they slowly been spiraling into separation? Had this been his way out of an unhappy relationship? Too scared to call off the wedding. A part of her instantly believes it, because what else could explain who easily he had just...let everything slip.

Despite trying to keep a stoic facade, Rey has to cover a sob, bending over the table as if in physical pain.

It feels painful.

Oh so painful.

And he just…doesn’t say anything.

“Have you...did you give up on us?” Rey manages to say, albeit weak and wetly. “— on me?”

“Rey...” Why is his voice like that? Soft and hurt? He’s the one who is leaving her!

“So you did give up!”

“Don’t do this Rey.”

He sounds so weak. Like he is hurting more than her. No. He - he’s the one...

“Tell me.” She covers her eyes with her palms, desperately wishing he’d touch her, but afraid that he will. “Are we...are you...ending it.”

A pause. The air spiking with things unsaid. But in the end, as with everything, it comes down to a single word.

— said in the wrong context.

“Yes."

He’s leaving her. He’s leaving her. She’s alone. He’s leaving her. He’s leaving her.

Rey sinks to her knees, pressing her forehead into the drawers. It hurts, but it compares nothing to the numbness within her. 

She’s a  _ failure _ .

Somewhere behind her, she thinks Ben is rambling, explaining, half way already to crying himself. That he couldn’t see how it was gonna work out. That he couldn’t live with her comparing him to Finn. The scrutiny, the doubt, the tension —

“I don’t think I have it in me to be  _ leftovers _ .”

For many years, one of Rey’s favorite pastimes was to get Ben into an argument. She loved to rile him up and she suspected he returned that sentiment. How many times have they not stood in this exact same kitchen, pointing fingers at each other, teeth bared, and trying to settle if the actor in the movie they just saw, really was the guy from Jurassic park? 

It's her first instinct too, the moment he suggests that she has just used him until something better came along. That he thinks her vile and horrible. That he hates her. She wants to argue with him, fight with him. To tell him that he is the one who is making her leftovers! She is being left. When he promised she would never be alone!

But alas, the hotness in her chest fades to embers, drenched by the reality that this will be the last time they fight.

She’ll never have that again with him. 

He didn’t choose her.

Like her parents.

And for the first time in years of feeling safe enough to be vulnerable and open, Rey goes back to what she knows best. Survival. Compartmentalization.

She can be miserable later. She can weep, vomit, whatever she wants as soon as she is gone and alone. 

With trembling hands, she rises to her full height, still not looking at him. 

Her chin quivers, having realised that no matter how much she’ll try to convince him, his heart and mind is set. He sees no future for them, no hope. 

“Get it over with.” The sheer disappointment that despite everything his demons pulses in her veins. All these insecurities which he’s fought so hard to curb, to defeat, the ones she was sure they had somehow vanquished together have  _ won _ .

“What?” Ben sounds surprised, as if he was ready for the fight of his lifetime.

Her hands tremble, so she folds them so he can’t see. “Tell me what you want.”

Silence. It cuts through her soul.

“Rey. I never —”

“Say it!”

A dog barks in the distance, the fridge hums as it runs another cooling circle, there are all these sounds around them, reminders of the life they’ve lived together for the past 5 years. 

And Ben is just quiet.

Does he even have to at this point?

She twists her body to tell him off, to explain to him that he can go fuck himself —

His eyes are red, his hair a mess, and he looks like a small child, distraught, miserable, with unshed tears.

This is his choice. He chose this. Rey needs to remind herself, to stop her from embracing him. From falling back into the wasteful endeavour of loving him.

“You —” Ben tries to say, but he’s struggling too. On the verge of tears. “— you can stay here. I’ll find another place until then.”

“No.” Rey snaps, “It’s your house anyway!”

“Rey, please.” He takes a step toward her. “Please — don’t — I —”

“You are leaving me. You promised me I’d never be alone.” It hurts to say it out loud, because it makes it real. Makes his betrayal true and not just a figment of the imagination.

How can getting a soulmate be such a life crushing experience?

Rey sobs, hiding her face in her hands, so she doesn’t see his intentions.

But before she can stop him, let her pride and dignity take the wheel, his arms wrap around her, and he sniffles into her hair. “You are not alone.”

“Yes I am!” She half yells into his shirt, drenching it with tears. 

A part of him must know he’s lying, that he can’t possibly believe his own words. What are they if they aren’t with each other? Who else is there but crushing loneliness.

That same chilling solitude from when she first came to the city. 

“You’ll be fine.” He cries the words into her hair. But it eases little of the pain. “You are strong.”

“No, I’m not.” 

He doesn’t say anything to that. He just holds her. 

And as she takes her time to smell his skin, to feel his warmth, she repeats a childhood thing she always did when she moved to a new foster home. To a new fake family. 

She says goodbye to the house, where she had loved to live.

She says goodbye to the holidays they were supposed to have together.

She mourns the country trip they had planned.

The Paris honeymoon she had slowly, but surely convinced him of. 

She says goodbye to the children she had hoped he might one day want. Their black curly hair, their father’s ears.

Like dust, they scatter to the wind. Lost to time and space. 

The sun rises behind them, warming her back. Reminding her that they will have to part sometime. But she’s not ready. Not yet, there’s one thing she hasn’t said goodbye to — Rey nuzzles her nose into his hair, his beautiful dark hair. With its gray streaks. 

It’s over.

****

2015

#    
  


“You don’t have to do this.” Ben speaks from behind her, sipping from his venti black coffee, as he watches her take apart the heater in his closet. 

“You should have called your landlord!” It makes her shake her head, the ridiculousness of this, while she pulls on a burned wire. This is fire-hazard and it could go wrong fast, oh so fast and “— How long have you been without heat again?”

He grunts, “I run hot and if it is too cold I’ll just wear a sweater.”

His sweater is probably nice and made of cashmere, Rey mentally settles on, as she cuts open the wire. Everything in his minimalistic apartment exudes expensive. The black leather couches, the white kitchen with nothing in his giant fridge, and the hardcover books neatly stacked. (He probably has opinions about Kindles and soft covers.) 

She had gawked at him the moment they had stepped inside, the enormous double floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city. It’s ridiculous, does he even like living here? Rey thought, as she had inspected every room in his apartment, while he loudly complained that they had only rendezvous here to get him new clothes. 

And then he had to explain why there was frost on the inside of the windows.

Ridiculous man. 

He’s a good kisser though.

“—I’m not home much anyway,” he quietly adds.

With a glance over her shoulder, she watches him stretch his arms over his head, exposing the muscles she has become so familiar with the past few days. 

The images of his reasons not to be home jump on her with little warning. Intertwined legs in warms beds, hands that are not hers tracing his stomach.

“You should have working utilities,” Rey grumbles, jealousy slipping through even though she’s the one who has been attached to him the past week. “How much do you pay for living here anyway?”

“A lot. Can we go back to your place now?”

She shakes her head, exposing the metal within the plastic — “Not yet. Gotta fix this.”

“Why is this so important?” 

“You gave me a gift. This is me paying you back.” She stretches on her toes, the ladder creaking under her weight. Her thighs ache and knowing the reason why makes her blush. 

And really, the jealousy is unfounded, Rey keeps reminding herself. Because she is not his soulmate, she isn’t the one. Someone else is. In the end she will just be a person in a long line of lovers whom he prefers to waste the time with until the moment he sparks. 

Or she does.

The wires spark, and the fan instantly turns, blowing hot gusts of air into the room. Rey claps, excited and proud. 

Ben’s hands round her waist, pulling her close. 

“Careful!” She scolds, grasping for the steps. He almost made her fall off the ladder.

His head must reach the bottom of her shoulders because she can feel his warm breath through her shirt. Fanning across her spine, make her skin prickle with goosebumps. 

“I got you.” His voice reverberates through her entire being, while he nuzzles the cotton with his nose.

Rey sighs, “I fixed it.”

The words are supposed to be serious, distracting, but they sound soft instead. How can they do anything else, when his palms snake up and under her shirt to press against her stomach, make him clutch her tighter. “Thank you.”

A kiss ghosts over her tailbone. It tickles.

“Where did you learn all this?” He casually asks, as he worships her back, her ass. “— the scrap yard?”

“My foster father wasn’t —” A moan escapes her “— if I needed stuff to work, I had to figure out how to make it work. He wouldn’t.”

“Foster dad?” 

“Yeah.” She stares at the fixed heater, lost to a memory, as he tentatively explores her back with his nose, his lips, exposing her spine to the cold of his apartment. ”— since I was five.”

“Five.” Ben repeats, but not in pity. Almost as if “—I lived with my uncle since I was 10.”

A gasp as he licks a spot just above her waist “You did?”

“Yeah. It was fun for a while. Until it wasn’t. Didn’t see my mom until I was twenty and —”

He pauses, but there’s no need to finish the sentence. They both know the culprit.

“When I lived in Jakku. I had nightmares.” Rey twists her waist to snake her arm around his neck, to fondle with his hair. “That I’d grow old and wrinkly. That I’d die alone.” His cheek rests against her shoulders, listening intently to her story. 

“—In a way. Han saved me.”

A scoff blows air across her back, “I don’t think a lot of people would say that about him.”

Another kiss, a soothing one, this time to her side. It makes her giggle and she turns her head to look down on him. “I don’t think a lot of people would say you are affectionate. Yet here we are.”

He smiles, first sweetly and then — a smirk. “I don’t think a lot of people would say you are a screamer —”.

Which Rey doesn’t fully understand, because while she  _ has _ moaned and writhed below him, she doesn’t recall screaming - the neighbours definitely hadn’t hit the walls to tell them to calm the fuck down.

But then, he bends down on his knees and places a hot open mouthed kiss over her clothed cunt. 

Oh.

Rey gasps, grasping for his shoulders. Anything.  _ “Not fair!” _

“I don’t wanna go back to your place yet.” He breathes like a petulant child, and it makes her cunt clench, make her squirm. “— I need to fuck you.”

Again? Have they not since Christmas eve been one tangled mess of limbs, collapsed onto her bedspread as if they were on fire, desperate to cease the burning. With kisses, groans — his cock. 

“Haven’t had time to study  _ here _ either.” Ben bites the words into her ass, thumbs digging into the elastic of her leggings while he slowly slides them down her legs. 

The apartment is still cold, but that's not why she shivers. 

“You’re impossible.” Rey moans. He presses a kiss just below her cheeks, and then another, so close to where she  _ needs _ him. 

“What are you doing for New Years?” 

“Really?  _ Now _ ?”

“Never fucked anyone to the strike of midnight.” A hand travels up her hip, grabbing it tight. His nose brushes against her lips, and she can hardly hear his words. “New Years still count as a Christmas right?”

Ah, yes.

Their little agreement. If he could stay for Christmas. Which had gone from one day, to two days, to three days - two lonely souls staying together to make their lives a little less lonely. But — New Years too? It seems like stretching their agreement to the limit.

They have an expiry date after all.

“You aren’t going to a party?” Rey arches her back, to give him better access, which he readily accepts. “With your friends?”

A growl, like he’s offended at her suggestion. “And miss hearing you silence the fireworks?” 

“I haven’t said yes.” 

An uncaring hum is all she gets, before he buries his face into the softness of her cheeks, nose dragging against the sensitive flesh, and oh - oh - his tongue drags through her lips, possessively, leisurely. 

He’s taking his time.

Rey supposes that the guttural sound that escapes her throat counts as a yes.

Heck, it might even account as purring. 

She clings to the steps so hard it feels like they’re gonna snap in half. 

And here Ben was, seemingly oblivious to her reactions, because he simply dragged his tongue up from her cunt to her thigh, sucking on the flesh just below. Rey hunched over, gasping. 

“You’re so good —,” he croons, “— fixing my apartment.”

His hands tighten around her hips, as he loves her body. His hair tickles against her ass. 

“—sucking my cock.”

In all alternative universes Rey could ever imagine, she would never have guessed that Ben would cheer her orgasm on with such...filthy language. He seemed far too stoic, uptight, perhaps even shy. 

How could she care though? About alternative universes, when there is a steady hum between her legs. He is tasting her, tongue lapping into her and the slide of it feels perfect. 

Perfect.

“—taking me so well.”

Hot sparks flash through her, hard and fast, as he changes the rhythm of his tongue, from her opening to that little bundle of flesh —

She shudders, groaning something incoherent in reply. A poor conversation partner she is.

And here he is, half way down on his knees eating out her pussy and her ass on a ladder like she’s a delicious satisfying meal. He moans against her sensitive flesh. It feels like bells singing through her body, the way his voice reverberates against it.

“—little technology wonder.”

And there it is. The colors, the explosions, the wave of pleasure that starts in her toes and cascades through her body.  _ Wrecking her.  _

She cums with a long drawn out shout. Grasping the steps with a death grip as if she’s afraid that her tide of pleasure will take her away. Drown her in an ocean. The only thing keeping her adrift is her hopeless rocking for friction against his face. Coating him her wetness, making him shine.

Ben mumbles something against her skin she can’t really make out, but it doesn’t matter, because he holds her tightly, kissing her cunt with a reverence that is painfully sweet.

“You’re so beautiful,” is the first sentence she hears clearly. “Perfect. Simply perfect.” 

And with far too much ease, he lifts her off the ladder by her waist, and guides her into his arms, so he’s carrying her like a bride.

Her cheeks are aflame when he bends his neck to kiss her, tasting both sweet and...tangy. She curls a finger into his warm black hair, smiling, content. 

And there’s no need to ask, he moves to the stairs that will take him to the bedroom with striking efficiency. Rey clings to him like a koala, arms tight around his neck as she, sated from her orgasm, lets him do whatever he wants.

His bedroom is an open room overlooking the kitchen below and its giant two-story windows, a true bachelor’s apartment. Outside the snow is falling harder by the minute. A storm is brewing. Rey couldn’t care less.

He throws her on the bed, knocking the air out of her lungs. She laughs at that, happy and content and he gives her a little smile while she blissfully watches him undress. 

Objectively he’s not a seductress, he’s a far more efficient creature, who tugs his pants and underwear off in one go, but there’s something stomach curling about his urgency. His need for her.

But there’s something else there. Rey briefly thinks, as he crawls to her, already breathless. He steadies himself above her, by his elbows, their faces so close she can feel his breath fanning over her cheeks. 

His eyes are liquid brown in the afternoon light, and they shimmer, like entire galaxies.

This is already something much more than sex, and it scares her. Makes her wonder if continuing this would be like drinking expired milk. 

First off, there’s a definite lightness to her head that could resemble a fever. Her chest surges, like she’s afloat, lost to his eyes. Delirium, for sure. 

But then he caresses her cheek with his knuckles; studying the freckles on her nose. He smiles a small smile, which Rey can’t help but return. It's painful, soul wrecking, how beautiful she finds him.

And they should really stop kissing. This passionate affair of theirs belongs nowhere amongst soft light kisses, of soft hums and tucking hair behind ears. 

Those are for soulmates. For people who are in love. 

When did all this start to feel...safe?

Ben exhales, sounding —  _ relieved _ . And with a surge of confidence unlike him, he breaks into a wide toothy grin, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Rey—” he begins, before stopping to swallow. “— Rey, I think —”

A key turns in the front door.

#    
  


****

Several things go through Rey’s head while Ben scrambles out of bed and reaches for his clothes, clumsily putting one leg at a time into his pants.

First, it’s hard to make sense of what is just happening. One moment they are kissing lazily in his bed, skin against skin, ready to continue where they left off. The next moment someone turns a key and it's cold. Only her lying in the bed made to fit five people.

The next thing is that someone is turning a key. Someone who is not Ben has the key to his place. And oh the people that could be. Rey acognises over which potential ex who is showing up, lonely and desperate. Perhaps they had lived together?

Perhaps Ben had lied? Maybe all of this has been a secret affair where she is the other woman? Tricked her - lied to her —

What if they broke into an apartment? Does he even live here!?

“Ben? Are you here? I saw the lights were on?”

Fuck.

_ Leia. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> Yeah.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated 5/10 on the angst scale.
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 10

****

2020

  
  
  


DAMNaron  
Rey. What the fuck is this?  
  
[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/760407149871628308/Screenshot_2020-09-29_at_09.46.20.png)  
  
Rey answer your phone.  
  
Rey!  
  
Rey!  
  


  
  


Rey falls back against the couch, clutching the phone tight against her chest. It vibrates gently with every call and text her coworker sends her.

Correction,  _ former _ coworker.

Out of all the spur of the moment decisions, which includes moving to the city the instant Han had offered, this is probably one of the worst ones.

But there just hadn’t been an alternative.

In an instant of social panic, the words practically writing themselves, Rey had spun a brief tale, pressed send on her email and shut off her computer. The exact wording of her resignation eludes her, but all she knew was —

Ben and Rey had been broken up for 48 hours.

It was Sunday.

She had to go to work tomorrow.

And even if she  _ loved  _ Leia like a mother, she was the very  _ real  _ mother to her fiance. 

Correction,  _ ex-fiance _ .

She picks up her phone again, ignoring the piling messages. It’s 9 am. Leia should be in, but so far only Poe has replied. 

Maybe it would have been better if she called in sick? But that would require calling them, and Leia would try to pry and Rey knows she would spill the beans.

She’ll have to know what beans eventually, but the sheer prospect of confronting that reality, of finding out if Leia’s response is that of a broken heart or a cocky I-told-you-so is something she’s not ready for.

Because it still hurts.

Even if there are no tears to cry. Only a hollow horrible feeling.

Which only leaves one option.

Quit.

DAMNaron  
Rey if you don’t answer your phone, I’m gonna call Ben!  
  
You know how I hate talking to him!!  
  


  
  


An unwillingly laugh escapes her, much to her own heartbreak. Because the image of Poe and Ben arguing over the phone, their similar charge-first-ask-questions-later personalities clashing as it had always done, will never _not_ be funny. 

But the laughter hurts too, like a slip up of her mind. And she wonders what Ben would paint her to be? Cruel and Vile? Pathetic and spineless?

Perhaps it fits him to be the recipient of Leia and Poe’s wrath. Their condescending tone. 

She supposes she could rectify it. 

Her hand doesn’t press the call button though. 

DAMNaron  
An e-mail  
  
Rey  
Really?!  
  
Be thankful Leia isn’t in yet   
  
  
Because fuck!  
  


She really should turn off her phone. It will do her no good to lie here on the couch listening to it buzz and avoiding answering. 

The pillow dents as she lies down on her borrowed couch, still damp from the tears she has shed since she left their house.

Correction,  _ his house. _

Was any part of them ever really hers? Her, a passive actor, being swept away by her larger than life boyfriend. 

It was nice though. He cared.

Her phone buzzes, and she turns it up to watch the screen.

Leia  
I just talked to Ben.  
  
Please call me.  


Rey doesn’t.

****

It’s late afternoon when a key turns in the door. Rey blinks her eyes open, only to find the entire apartment draped in darkness. She lifts her phone. 5 pm in the afternoon.

How long has she been asleep?

“Hi, Rey.” Rose whispers, flicking the switch on the overhead light. Rey winches at the sudden light, and sits up on the couch. Her throat feels like sandpaper, hoarse and dry — while her head is heavy, yet also light.

She feels sick. 

Rose gives her a sad smile, as she walks through her living room and into the kitchen. Arms filled with bags from a local store. It’s hard to return the smile, but she does, because Rose offered her her couch to crash on until  _ we fix this mess.  _

But there isn’t anything to fix is there? It’s all just shit.

“You are going to be okay,” Rose carefully states, twisting the cap on her water bottle while leaning against her kitchen countertop. 

Rey sniffs, “Doesn’t feel like it.”

With a stiff finger, her friend pokes herself in the chest. “Dead sister. Remember.”

“Sorry.” Rey sighs, ashamed. 

“Don’t be. Stuff like this always messes you up —” Rose gazes out the window, lost to a memory Rey isn’t privy to. “ — It doesn’t stop hurting, okay, maybe less — but you just...move on.”

Moving on. What would that even look like? Rey hasn’t lived on her own in years. Does she even know how to pay rent? Let alone be a functioning adult. Rose makes it seem so effortless, with her blossoming career and nice apartment in the city. 

It’s a remarkable change from the Rose who sobbed into her lap in agony after having found herself to be the last one left of her family. Her sister was lost and gone.

But the hurt is still there. The wound. You just gotta keep living. 

Oh. And she’s unemployed.

“I just want to sleep.” Rey pouts, feeling all pathetic and young. 

Her phone buzzes again, she ignores it. 

With that intelligent knack of hers, Rose nods towards her, eyes on her phone. “How was work?”

No point in lying, Rey supposes. 

“I quit.”

A pause.

Oh God. Rey panics, half expecting Rose to yell, to talk down to her, to call her crazy …

“About time.”

Rey flips her head to her, not even trying to hide her surprise. “What?”

A shrug “You’ve been with Leia - what - how long? Didn’t you want to go to school?”

Rey did want to go to school. They had briefly talked about it at a company picnic, her and Rose, but it hadn’t been possible at the time. Rey didn’t have a high school diploma, least of all enough money to put her through college. It hadn’t been time.

However, now, her bank account is fat enough, after years of working and not paying rent (at Ben’s insistence). She could live off it comfortably for months - even years if she were sensible about her spending.

Perhaps she could go to school.

She sighs. “I don’t even know what I’d study.” She rubs her sore eyes, frustrated. Her mind refuses to entertain any other thought that isn’t related to Ben.

Ben. Ben. Ben.

Beautiful Ben.

A very full glass of wine is placed in front of her. Rose smiles reassuringly. “All in good time. Tonight we are gonna watch a movie and talk shit about Ben.”

Rey huffs, accepting the beverage but not really drinking it. “I don’t know.”

“Trust me. This is the way to go.” She presses on the remote and sits down next to Rey on her temporary couch bed. She doesn’t remark on the wetness of the pillow. “ — and the other way is Mad Max Fury Road.”

Rose seems so adept at this like she has gone through what Rey has a million times before. A part of her instinctively wants to tell her off, because she doesn’t know what it feels like! To have the only person who you’ve ever loved, who ever loved you, throw you out like trash.

Then again, it is nothing compared to a dead sister.

It takes Rose all but one sip of her wine before she asks —

“So. Do you want to talk about it?”

A man is dragged through a tunnel, chased by white powdered boys.

“Talk about what?” Rey replies, knowing full well what her friend is referring too. Her wine is still untouched.

“Why Ben kicked you out? It doesn’t...it  _ surprises _ me —” A pause. “ — he adored you.”

If there were any more tears left, Rey knows they would have been running down her face. But there isn’t anything to give now. Wherever he inflicted that painful wound, now feels hollow, numb. And in a way, Rey understands Rose’s confusion, even  _ herself  _ doesn’t fully comprehend what had gone down in their kitchen. The scavenger in her supposes she could lie, pretend that something different had gone down.

But Rey kind of wants Rose to know.

“I have a soulmate.”

Rose spits. Full-on spits her wine onto the floor, like a wacky comedy. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she stares at Rey, disbelief, confusion crosses her face.

“You have a soulmate!? Since when? What —”

“A month,” Rey replies simply. 

“Rey! A month!? And you didn’t tell me!?”

She tenses her jaw, gaze focusing on the wine swirling in her glass. “He is —  _ was  _ our wedding photographer. His name is Finn.”

A pause, then.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

Raising her glass to the screen, Rey salutes the statement.

“Yeah. Fuck.”

****

After two bottles of wine, to which the conversation grows increasingly animated and rambunctious, where stories are exchanged, ravenous and unflattering, a piece of time where Rey actually laughs, albeit wetly, for the first time since … forever.

That all ends the moment she hears Rose’s breathing grow deeper, broken by small snores, as she collapses on the armrest, drooling on the velvety fabric. 

The TV has long since stopped playing, looping over the trailers to various alternatives, but it could just as easily be complete silence. 

Rey feels tired, drunk, and angry. Frustrated that sleep eludes her, that she has to sleep on a couch and not at home in her bed with a man who loves her.

Correction — loved her.

_ Can you die from this? _ She wonders, as she rubs the heel of her palms against her swollen eyes. Wanting both to cry and to not. 

Her phone buzzes from somewhere on the floor. Thrown there by Rose after she had insisted on blocking numbers and changing names. 

“Ben needs a name more befitting!” Rose had exclaimed, running through several inappropriate but truly appropriate names for him. It had felt right, cathartic and like a petty revenge, which was fun for a while.

Until she is alone.

The loneliness crushes down on her, as if the entire atmosphere has collapsed and fallen onto of her. Pushing her down, leaving her breathless and —

The phone is in her hand faster than she intended. Her hands shaking as she fumbles with unlocking it.

Maybe it’s Ben.

Maybe he wants to talk. To forgive her — have her forgive him. Alone and lonely in his bed too, desperate for her to come home. It’s too cold without her.

She blinks at the name.

Finn   
Okay. I’m not sure if it is a soulmate thing.  
  
I’ve been feeling weird all day  
What about U?  


It takes a few moments for her beating heart to calm down enough, for the immediate feelings of disappointment to pass, for her to realise two things. 

One, she has not told Finn that she and Ben had broken up.

Two, that Finn hasn’t been more on her mind a lot. She has thought about him, truly, but it surprises her how...little their bond has interfered with her daily life. From what everyone else has explained, everything else in life matters little, as long as you are with your soulmate. Your most compatible person. Yet, it doesn’t feel like that for Rey.

True, she enjoys the warmth she feels whenever Finn is close. The safety of it. The knowledge that he is meant for her. But it has done little to ease her feelings of heartbreak, of soul crushing misery. 

To the point that she had almost forgotten about him.

Two days have passed and she told Rose about this before him.

Is this normal?

  
  


Sory  
  


Her fingers hover over the keyboard, trembling. Last time they had spoken, he had been so confident. All the promises they had exchanged, of how he would take photos of them at her wedding, his belief in her — and Ben.

Ben and I broke up  
  
No. He broke up with ME  
  


A minute passes, the three dots flash at the bottom of the screen. 

Finn   
What an idiot.  
  
[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/760406200491442176/Screenshot_2020-09-29_at_09.42.33.png)  


Rey laughs, wiping an errant tear off her cheek, considering if she should call him. Maybe that’d make her feel better? Perhaps she could ask Rose if it was okay for him to come over. It wasn’t as if her friend had been an intense Ben stan. She probably wouldn’t judge Rey for wanting to snuggle into Finn’s embrace and for a second forget about her tall and dark —-

What is he even to her now?

I quit my job  
  
Finn   
Do you want me to call?  
  


Rey glances at Rose, fast asleep. She types.

I'm staying at a frinds  
She’s sleeping nxt to me  
Finn   
Can I see you tomorrow?  
A check-up?  


The nod she hastily shakes to no one seems silly and overeager. But she really does wanna see him. More than anything.

More than Ben really. 

She is still undecided about him. Her ex, she supposes he is now. Angry to the point of bursting into uncontrolled screaming. Desperate and longing enough to consider running back and showing up at their door. Unlocking the doors and slipping under the sheets.

But what if he changed the locks.

Rubbing her temple, she types a response, making plans for meeting up and talking things over, to which Finn eagerly replies. It feels good to have plans and not just be stuck on a couch well-intentioned rom coms that do nothing to make her feel better.

Especially the soulmate ones.

The message icon flashes in the corner, but there are no new speech bubbles from Finn. Rey frowns. It’s 3 am, who could be texting her this late? Even Leia had to sleep four hours at night.

Naive, innocent, whatever propels her, she presses the icon and there it is.

  
  


Asshole  
I hope it works out for you.  
You were always braver than me.  


The screen probably breaks the moment she throws the phone across the floor. 

  
  
  


****

2016

  
  


Tension.

Yeah. 

This is definitely tension.

The snow is blowing against the windows, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the cafe. It howls a desperate tune, but it's not what makes Rey feel cold. 

Leia leans back into her chair, running a hand over the cheap plastic menu, stained by old coffee. They haven’t said anything to one another, not since she had stared at her in Ben’s duvet cover, barely covering her very naked body and Ben’s unzipped pants. A thousand emotions had crossed Leia’s face, genuine surprise, mild confusion, and then ...anger.

_ “How long has this been going on?” _

_ “Mom.” _

_ “No. No. We aren’t doing this here. Get dressed. We are going to dinner. And you are driving me home, because I need drinks.” _

It’s 5 pm. There are not a lot of places open between Christmas and New year, and especially not this early. Rey glances at the clock on the wall, a faded Mickey Mouse one. But it’s not the most strikingly odd thing in this “Italian restaurant”, with its plastic checkered table covers and chinese wall murals, probably from the previous owners.

No, this ragtag group of people, of two Solos and a Niima stick out like a sore thumb.

The staff stare at them with a mix of confusion and annoyance, probably because of the way Leia and Ben had eyed the front doors with a grimace, but ultimately decided to go through with it: Rey following them like a lost puppy, a child.

Mother and son sit next to each other at the small table, forcing her to sit directly across from them. 

It feels like an interrogation, caught between the unpredictable whims of two stubborn people. She wonders who’ll put on the role of bad cop and good cop. 

Leia’s knuckles are white, a trait Rey recognizes when something truly frustrates her.

And her boss won’t look at her, like the act of sleeping with her son is the ultimate betrayal. 

Is she gonna get fired?

Ben won’t look at her either.

A part of her questions why she just hasn't left and gone home.

Is there a point sitting through this. 

“I think I took your father here, once,” Leia comments absentmindedly, flipping through the menu with casual indifference. It is obvious her attempt at small talk is just an attempt at masking her anger. “Back when it was a French bistro.”

Ben huffs, rubbing his fingers against the hollow of his cheek. “Is that really what you want to talk about?”

“He hated it. But would do anything as long as he didn’t have to pay.” A sad annoyed smile crosses her face. “Such a cheapskate.”

Her son hums a reply, them having known each other for so long that it isn’t even necessary to acknowledge his shared sentiment. 

The display of it, so openly, right in front of the orphan cuts so deep in her soul, Rey has to hide her face behind the menu. Pretending to be absorbed by the interesting dishes. To not show how her head swims with thoughts, reveal her churning emotions.

Of how she’d rather just be at home. Run out of the door.

The waiter, a pimpled teenager, writes down their orders. Leia, a martini and a light salad, Ben the most expensive pasta and some red wine. They all stare at Rey, who in her misery failed miserably at deciphering the letters in front of her. 

No one had suggested that the meal was on them, and not wanting to assume and not wanting to ask, Rey blurts —

“Just a coffee for me.”

Oh. So now Ben wants to look at her. He narrows his eyes, mimics her gesture and extends the menu back too. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Rey shrugs, picking on the plastic cover, not really looking at either of them. 

Mother and son turn to each other, probably puzzled by Rey’s sudden missing appetite. Rey hides her mouth in her palm and turns to look out the window.

It is still snowing, but the temperature must have gone up, because the perfect white flakes turn to slush the instant they hit the pavement — colored pale yellow by the old street lights. 

There’s guilt radiating off her maybe lover, he’s a schoolboy awaiting his inevitable scolding, knowing exactly what crime he has committed. And even if they could technically reach out, at least with their legs to confirm their connection, neither does. There’s a difference between them now, and suddenly he’s a stranger. Unfamiliar and cold. 

Leia takes a moment to sip her water, before looking up the nicotine-stained ceiling.

“Sometimes, I wonder if this year is one big test. —” Her boss muses, lipstick slowly smeared away from the way she moves her mouth. “ — but this...you two. I don’t even know what to say. Even though I know more than anyone how shared pain can bring unlikely people together.”

Two  _ unlikely  _ people. 

And there it is, the unspoken fault between them. Why they could never work out, her and Ben. The reason for their expiration date. 

“What were you thinking, Ben?.” His mother hisses, “She’s  _ 19 _ .”

Her son frowns, about to open his mouth —

“I was the one,” Rey answers, even though Leia didn’t ask a question. “I was the one who initiated.”

Ben frowns, eyes burning into her face, desperately looking for him. 

“I’m not sure how that makes it better, Rey.” Leia chuckles, “I trust you to watch over her. And instead, you decide to ...canoodle with her.”

“Oh, God.” Ben groans, running a free hand over his face. “Mom, will you please —”

“Have you really thought this through, Ben? Is this your way of getting back at me? I already apologized —”

“Mother, will you —” He looks genuinely angry, like he wants to flip over the table, but doesn’t. “ — We are both consenting adults. And you and dad were the same —”

“It was a different time.” She waves her hand into the air dramatically, while the waiter scarcely avoids spilling their drinks. He places them on the table before them. Only Leia touches her. “And...I didn’t ...you never asked about her.” 

It's funny how sometimes you can sit right in front of people, and still feel like you aren’t even there. Rey wonders more and more if she would walk out, would they even notice? Is she even essential to this?

Is this really about her sleeping with Ben — or something else?

She supposes she isn’t that important after all. 

“And maybe this explains why.” The words are spit from his lips, like a rowdy teenager. 

Rey hides her angry blush behind her coffee cup, ignoring Leia’s next question —

“Are you soulmates?”

Silence, filled with unsaid things, of dreams and hopes.

But there’s no other answer than —

“No.” Ben sighs.

“Ah. Well. So are 80 percent of the rest of the world.” Leia complains, “It can’t be helped.” 

The pasta and salad follow, and mother and son sit making quiet awkward small talk, while the scavenger runs a finger over the rim of the coffee cup. They eat with style, not like Rey, who has several times been told that she devours her food — like she doesn’t know when her next meal will be.

If they just knew.

Her phone buzzes.

  
  


Unknown  
I'm sorry.  


Rey frowns, unsure of who the sender is, when she looks up and notices Ben’s intense stare. He’s holding his phone in his hand, in a vice. An angry exhale through her nose, she types a reply.

Why  
  


Unknown  
This was not how I imagined tonight to go.  


Rey tenses her jaw, agreeing with the sentiment and decides to be honest. Maybe he’ll let her go.

It wasn’t bound to last  
  


A weird expression crosses his face and he briefly eyes his mother, who keeps talking about something related to the business, and then types.

Unknown  
Why?  
Why are you texting me?  
  
Leia has the eyes of a falcon.  
The hearing of a whale.  
You never rsvp’d to New Years.  
ur r still on about that?  
  
Even after all that has just happened  
  
ur mother has seen me naked!  
  
My BOSS!  


He pauses, unsure, an emotion she had never expected to be able to identify in him. But she has come to be familiar with him, obviously. 

And she’s not sure what to do with that information. 

Unknown  
Why aren't you eating?  
Are you okay?  
You are always hungry.  
u say that like u know me  
  


He looks at her, eyes barely on the keyboard.

Unknown  
Am I wrong?  


Rey finishes their conversation by pressing the silence icon and all but shoves her phone back into her bag. Not liking that he sees through her, recognizing her faults, her traumas.

What she has done to herself.

  
  


****

Leia fumbles with the keys as Rey guides her up the front steps of her townhouse. One too many margaritas and it’s not even 7 pm, makes the elegant woman stumble up the marble steps. The keys click effortlessly. It looks newly renovated, expensive.

Somehow that hurts her, knowing how different she is to them both. Ben’s slick car, Leia’s fancy house.

Maybe that is why Leia is so upset. Rey is not worthy of them.

A skinny bratty scavenger who used to scam people for parts and engaged in shady business.

Perhaps Han is the only one she ever truly connected with.

She misses him.

And then Leia cups one of her cold cheeks, smiling a sad, albeit drunk smile.

“I’m not angry with you.”

Rey blinks at her words, and then frowns, She doesn’t reply.

Leia sighs. “I know you are not a kid. And he is most certainly not. And he’s not in a good place right now.” her thumb runs over her cheekbone, motherly and kind. It feels like a whiplash. “And I’m afraid.”

“Leia —” Her boss’s name escapes Rey, but she doesn’t even know what she wants to say.

“What if you burn through each other? What if you drive each other away — away from me?” The bone cutting sadness Leia feels leak through the cracks. Rey can almost taste it. “I have lost — so many Rey.”

And with that, the hand falls from her face and Leia walks inside her mansion, closing the door on it’s bright yellow rooms, filled with designer furniture.

Rey draws a settling breath, guilt washing over in grim waves. 

Of course, this was a dumb idea.

Ben’s car is still running behind her, and the snow is still falling, coating her brown hair with soft flakes. When she shuts the car door and sits in the passenger seat, her maybe-lover plucks one from her hair.

“Where do you want to go?”

It is a simple question, but it’s so loaded that Rey feels they are rocks dragging her down to the bottom of the ocean. She’s drowning.

“Ben —” Rey sighs, her breath fogging the passenger side window. “ — what are we even doing?”

His fingers tap the steering wheel, as if her vague question is all he needs to hear — “I’m taking you home then”, and drives the car out and onto the road. The snow blurs into white streaks against the car window, like they are traveling at light speed. 

Maybe they are - speeding unaimed at some end goal no one knows what is.

They are quiet for a moment, before he softly asks.

“Are you hungry?”

Yes.

“No.”

He huffs, “I can hear your stomach rumbling.”

She tightens her coat around her midriff, embarrassed.

“That’s not nice.”

“I’m not a nice person, Rey.”

She glances at him, trying to understand where he is going with this.

“I know.”

They turn to the left, back into the city. The yellow lights travel across his dashboard, briefly illuminating his striking face. The way it shouldn’t be attractive, and probably isn’t - but there’s something there…

“You  _ are _ angry with me.”

Rey blinks, “what?”

“I thought we were...somewhere else. But you are angry with me.” He briefly glances at her, “ — It would help to know why.”

“I’m not —”

“Then why am I driving you to your apartment? And not going up with you?”

Slightly offended, Rey pouts “Why do you want to?”

A snort, like she said the most stupid thing he has ever heard.

“I like you.” A sharp exhale, “And I’ve grown fond of sleeping next to you.”

“Just sleeping?”

His mouth twists. “No. Not just sleeping.”

“Well. I guess —” Rey comments, not really sure what she is getting at. She scratches her jaw. “It was nice. Getting it out of our systems.  _ Very nice _ .” 

The car grows silent, as they stop at a red light. She watches him run his hands around the steering wheel, tightening and untightening his hand. The leather squeezes.

“I don’t think it’s out of my system.” This dark brooding man confesses. “I think you got  _ in _ my system. Forced yourself in there.”

Rey laughs, disbelieving. “Are you calling me a parasite?” 

A huff, but she knows he’s trying not to chuckle. The light turns green. “You are more like a virus.”

“I’ll make your demise quick and painful.” 

He hums, pleased. “You certainly tried. My legs are so sore.”

“No one asked you to carry me up the stairs.”

She can see the top of her apartment building on the horizon. It seems too soon. 

Ben grins, running a hand over his mouth. Way too pleased. “You were impressed. Very impressed — and eager.”

“That has nothing to do with you lifting me!”

Another dismissive hum, like he can’t find it in him to believe it. It makes Rey’s heart flutter.

“It's a wonder you are single.” Rey deadpans, but there’s a grin plastered on her face. 

Ben says nothing and just keeps on driving. It feels like they are driving to their doom. The end. A Dante’s Inferno where they never escape the 9th circle of hell.

And then he just drops —

“Someone once dumped me over a pineapple.”

There’s a man yelling outside a bar, but Rey hardly notices, she just lifts an eyebrow at her maybe-lover. “A pineapple?”

“Seventh grade. I was supposed to be dating a girl. It lasted a few hours until she saw that I had pineapple with me for lunch.”

“I’m a fierce advocate for pineapple on pizza.” Rey presses a finger into her chest. “You would have lasted longer with me.”

They are at her apartment, she knows that because he stops the car and parks it. Her faded red door mocks her, its shitty locks that forever will be associated with this  _ one time thing _ . His crooked smile.

Until he asks the question shy, timid, staring straight ahead. “Do you — want to last longer with me?”

His suggestions hit her like a brick wall. She feels struck, out of breath, and — warm. He turns to look at her, frightened and...hopeful.

“Wouldn’t...that make you my boyfriend?” 

He huffs a laugh, smiling, looking like a young man, on his first day at work. “I suppose that is the definition.”

“Ben…” She begins, but she has no idea what to say. Lost for words, lost for ideas about what she wants. “ — Are you sure?”

He exhales her name, and leans over the consol, drawing a hand around her neck. It’s warm against her clammy skin. With a sad smile, he massages his thumb into her skin and says “ — Of course not.”

“Because I’m not your soulmate,” Rey concludes on his behalf.

Ben sighs, as if she guessed something wrong, and pulls her face closer to his. He presses a kiss to her cheek, then nuzzles her skin with his nose. It makes her want to cry, and she returns his soothing gesture by pressing her face against his.

Oh, who is she kidding? Is there a reason for her to punish herself? She wants this man. She can tell and she has made no move to get out and into her apartment. Just as she hasn't removed herself from the restaurant, Ben’s apartment, the elevator.

Why should she deny herself a thing she wants. 

When all she has had all her life is lacking.

“Ben?”

He hums a yes, but doesn’t draw back. Smelling her hair. 

“Can we go get pizza? With pineapple?”

His laugh against her cheek is all the answer she needs.

He’s her boyfriend now.

  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aqua has rated this chapter is rated 6/10 on the angst scale.
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!

#  Chapter 11

2021

The terrible irony of existence is that regardless of whatever tragedy is inflicted on you, whatever numbing pain you go through, time passes by undeterred. A cruel life companion with little empathy for your desire to wallow in the sadness, to let it choke you. 

It’s only a fool’s errand trying to stop it. 

Rey knows that, but it is still a disappointment to see that it won’t make an exception for her. Time flows ahead, unbothered, and before she knows it the winter months fade, promising a budding spring even if the days remain cold. The Christmas and New Years she had feared passed like a fleeting shadow (or mostly a hungover daze) and now, life begs her to move on. 

But how can she, when all it does it remind her of the many opportunities Ben has had to reach out, to make amends, to do a grand gesture - but she has heard nothing from him since the day she quit her job. And by now it just feels like his voluntary absence is stuffing her wound with salt, keeping it open, when it is supposed to heal.

It would be nice to know how much time is meant by time heals all wounds, because right now it is doing nothing for her. 

But time passes, and Rey cannot stay at Rose’s forever. 

It’s no longer a question, time has moved on and she has to move with it, whether she likes it or not.

“There’s no point in fighting it,” she had complained to Finn, while browsing the listings for studios in the city, very uninterested in the flowery descriptions of ancient countertops, vintage tiles and “charm”. 

“New house, new you,” he had replied, sounding so confident and hopeful. 

Well, this is definitely a new house, but she doesn’t feel any different, Rey quietly muses to herself. True, she had bought herself a new coat (one that wasn’t from Ben), new boots (also not from Ben), and flowery scarf (this one not from Ben, but Leia), but nothing feels new about her. Just old dressed up in new things. 

A sigh. She wipes a hand over the ancient 70’s kitchen countertop. The stains and dents archived into the fake marble, of lives lived here — happy lives. 

“What about storage space?” She hears Finn grill the realtor “— Is there a basement or a loft?”

“Well, it comes with a big closet in the bedroom.”

Finn glances over at her, and she gives him a half-hearted shrug.

His approach is very different from how she and Ben had begun living together, there’s never a moment he isn’t confirming her approval. 

She supposes that’s only natural, it's not like  _ they _ are going to live together. 

A police car speeds ahead down on the street, she observes it from her vantage point a few floors up. The frames are old, bits of rot and wear and tear visible in the wood.

“I read that this neighbourhood is up and coming? But is it safe.” Someone turns and unturns the lock on the door, inspecting how well it works.

“It has become safer, in a few years this will be a very popular spot to live. A great selling point should you decide to purchase.”

Rey doesn’t really care about safety, she just doesn’t wanna live somewhere that is near Ben or Leia, where every day she’d wander around in her own misery without risking being confronted by its cause.

“This space is just dying to have a retro looking couch — ” the realtor’s warm voice spins a tempting tale, “— and a — ”

“I don’t have a couch.” Rey interrupts, feeling borderline close to a childish tantrum. 

A laugh, a distraction, Finn swings an arm around her shoulder. “We’ll go to Ikea! The ultimate soulmates test?” She can't help but smile back, heck, she even laughs. 

Ikea with Finn sounds nice. Fun even. 

Ben never wanted to go to Ikea. He prefered quality over quantity.

“Oh! I didn’t know — ” the realtor fumbles through his bag as if they had whispered a secret password “— we have a great discount on rent if you are soulmates. 20 percent actually.”

Finn opens his mouth to speak, but Rey beats him to it, annoyed, tired. “That won’t be necessary — ” she raises her hand in a futile attempt at stalling the realtor “— we won’t be living together.”

Struck. Yeah, the expression on the realtor’s face is struck, followed by confusion and mild...disdain? 

“I can’t say for the landlord — but it is not custom — ”

In an instant, Finn straightens his back and promptly guides Rey by the arm to the door. 

“We’ll be in contact!” Her soulmate announces over his shoulder. The realtor doesn’t give chase. Perhaps too stunned to react — to  _ understand _ .

The cold hits them instantly as they hit the busy streets below. It’s snowing lazily, with thick fluffy flakes, which stick to the trees and their small buds. It’s spring soon.

“I didn’t like the place either.” Finn looks at his phone. “We probably shouldn’t out us as soulmates at the next place. It’s a few blocks down, but not for another hour.”

Rey nods, watching a young family buying churros from a street vendor. “What should we do until then?”

“We could check out the area? I’ve heard there’s a park somewhere around here? Good running tracks.”

Not really wanting to do any of it, Rey shrugs. “Sure. Why not.”

And sure enough, just five minutes down the road, there’s a tiny refuge of green between all the bricks and concrete. Well, it’s not very green now, It’s mostly grey and brown, with spots of slushy snow on the pavement, making the streets slippery and wet.

Rey knows that, because she can feel how her socks are slowly getting soaked by freezing dirty slush. 

“You know,” Rey begins, trying to avoid a puddle of half frozen water, “— Jakku was a shit place. But the longer I’ve stayed here, the more I miss its warmth, the sunshine.”

He’s quiet for a moment, her soulmate, while opening the gates to the half empty plot of dirt. “I grew up in California actually. I miss the sunshine too, especially on days like this. Not the LA traffic though.”

“Really?” He had never told her that.

“Yeah. Moved here when I was a moody teen who wanted to take photos of things that mattered - change the world.” His shoulders shake as he chuckles nostalgically. “Or maybe I just wanted to get out. Where I was...it...it wasn’t a good place.”

“I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too.”

Rey draws her coat tighter around her body, regretting how she opted for not buying the one lined with fake fur. Finn notices, moves his mouth and then in a careful voice admits — 

“You know. I’ve been thinking about moving back for a while now.”

She stops in her tracks, a thousand questions running through her mind.

“You have?”

“Yeah. But then you stumbled over my doorstep and then those plans weren’t that interesting any longer.” His eyes crinkle, then it turns serious, hopeful and gently suggests “There are a lot of good schools out there.”

Rey blinks, confused for a second, and — “ _ oh. _ ”

“I mean, it’s up to you. But there’s sun and, best part, I’ll be with you!”

A snowflake lands on her nose, making her blink at the sad slumbering landscape around them. Her memories of this city, this life is like the bare trees, a remnant of something lush and happy, but now just...empty. Devoid of anything green and light. Just empty branches and no confetti. 

“I suppose — ” She could live somewhere where the plants grow all year, where her freckles multiply under the sun. Heck, she could avoid having to stuff herself into fluffy jackets and wear light sweaters. A patio to sit out on long into the evening.

“Think about it.” Finn places a hand on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s a big decision.”

“It is.”

She would never see Ben again. And she’s not sure if it's a good or bad thing.

But she has little time to ponder on that, because at that moment, someone yells her name.

_ “Rey Niima!” _

The spitely sound of her name being called makes her physically flinch and duck away from its source.

“Do you know that guy?” Finn asks.

“ _ Rey _ !”

Yeah.

She knows that guy.

_ Poe Dameron. _

Instinct takes over, the little scavenger who more than once had to flee the scrap yard to avoid Plutt’s wrath instantly spies for the exits. Could she run through the bushes? Where would she even go? She doesn’t know the area, least of all where she is!

“An email. Rey. An email!”

Finn’s hand digs into her arm, before she can make a run for it, and pulls her behind him. Blocking the direct path of her furious ex-coworker, who looks perfectly tanned even during peak winter.

“Hey!” Finn shouts, “What’s your deal man?”

She can see Poe’s shoes as he tries to turn around them to see her, but Finn just twists them enough for her to be out of reach. Has she ever heard Poe this angry? True he has yelled loudly enough in conference rooms for everyone to cower, but this — 

“Was I talking to you, buddy?” Poe spits, or at least it sounds like he is. “And who the fuck are you?”

“I’m her  _ soulmate _ ! Who are  _ you _ ?”

For a moment there’s only a tense silence, briefly interrupted by bird song and car horns.

And then Poe  _ laughs _ .

“Ben did not mention —  _ that _ .”

Rey twists — very much against her will and pride — so she can face Poe. His disbelieving look and impeccably dressed self. “You’re talking?”

A snort. “Of course we are. Thanks for that by the way. Now he won’t stop calling.”

“How is that  _ my _ fault?”

Poe gestures frantically into the air. “Let me see. We receive this short puzzling email with a half-assed resignation and then you don’t answer our calls.” Rey grimaces at his accusation, it hadn’t seemed like that in the moment “What if you were kidnapped or dead? So of course I call your goddamn  _ fiance _ .”

Rey rubs her arm, feeling subdued and ashamed. Finn and Poe both look at her expectantly, to hear some confession or reason. But what is there to say?

Breathing heavily, Poe adds. “It was not a nice thing to do.” 

“I know.”

A couple walking their dog and glances their way, eager to pry into their drama on public display.

It’s so fucking awkward.

And Poe has always been a master at defusing awkward. With a quick look, probably sizing Finn up, he blurts. “But then again — Ben never said shit about you having a fucking soulmate.” 

— and extends his hand to Finn. 

“Hi. I’m Poe. Rey’s former coworker.”

Finn grabs it, shaking it harshly. 

“Finn. Rey’s soulmate.”

“Yeah. I got that — but how? when?”

Rey rubs her neck. "Finn is a photographer." Her skin feels clammy, when did it get so hot? "He was supposed to do our wedding."

“ _ Fuck me _ .” A belly rumbling laughs escapes him. “Rey, that’s so fucked up.”

Why is he laughing? it's not that funny.

"You don't have to tell me that." 

Poe slaps a hand on Finn’s shoulder, like two old buddies catching up. “So. Finn? How’s our girl?”

"I guess, I haven't seen her that much though." Finn looks down at his phone as it  _ plings _ with a message, "Work is  _ swamped _ ." 

"Yeah. We are quite busy too." Poe nods at Rey, hinting at the cause of his detriment. She scrunches her nose at him in reply. “I’ve got all these client meetings, calling the shots, and don’t forget all the wine and dining — ”

“— and dating.” Rey bites, crossing her arms. Even if it has been months since they last saw each other, their banther, always bordering between animosity and friendship, comes so naturally to her.

He catches on immediately. “It’s called persuasion, Rey. If it works, it works.” 

Finn reaches over to show her his phone, a message from an unknown number on display. “They want to postpone the viewing, is that okay with you?”

Rey shrugs, it's not like today is gonna get any better. “Sure.”

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Poe’s curiosity gets the better of him, even if he fakes nonchalance by pretending to pick something loose between his teeth. “Not to visit me obviously.”

“We are looking at apartments.” Finn takes back the phone and begins typing a reply, meaning only Poe and Rey can lock eyes. It doesn’t feel good.

In fact, what has he been speaking to Ben about? Poe doesn’t really seem upset about their lack of attachment any longer, mostly just upset that she gave him more work to do.

Perhaps she has been the blind one, ignoring the cracks in their relationship, while everyone around them just waits for it to fall apart. Waiting for her mourning period to pass so they can all move on.

Were there red flags she didn’t see?

Poe points between them, “Both of you?”

“Just me.” 

Finn grins, trying to lighten the mood by swinging an arm around her shoulder. His touch eases something within, something deep and hurting. “I think it’s best. She probably won’t like sharing a space when I bring back dates.”

It isn’t much of a reply, it is more like a blink, followed by a scrutinizing look. That look Poe always used to assess a client's intentions. She knows that, she has watched it too many times. 

But then, Poe surprises her.

“You know,” He throws a casual thumb over his shoulder, “I live just down the block, and I happen to know there’s a studio for rent in my building. Wanna check it out?”

Finn and Rey look at each other.

  
  


****

  
  


Just down the block, turns out to be quite a walk, meaning her socks are soaked through. She’s hungry, annoyed, and she’d rather just crawl on her duvet at Rose’s and sleep the afternoon off.

At least until they turn a corner and Poe waves at a very new 20 floor building. The facade is made entirely out of glass and stands out awkwardly among the brown houses and 80’s apartment complexes.

It’s strangely confronting how she has known Poe for years, but never has she once visited where he lived — heck, she didn’t even know where he lived. Why didn’t she visit him? Rey tries to answer — 

— but all she comes back to: Ben probably didn’t want to?

And did she ever ask? Or did she assume?

An exasperated looking landlord hands Poe the key to a small studio on the fifth floor. Not even surprised to find the charming man requesting something that odd and just like that, Rey finds herself in an elevator with her soulmate and her ex-coworker animatedly talking as if they’ve been friends for years.

Leaning against the glass wall, Rey takes a moment to observe the scene. And it only confirms something she has known for a while. Or at least a question that grows bigger by everyday.

Why is Finn her soulmate?

In so many ways he is different from her. He’s more social, befriends people so easily and loves to go out, loves to have adventures. She’s more closed off, prefering to camp inside and read a book. It’s like she doesn’t have the patience with people.

Finn is charming, she’s aggressive. A negotiator paired with a hooligan, ready to fight anyone and everything. It reminds her of that one time Rose and Finn had convinced her to go to a bar, where she almost was about to kick a guys ass for spilling her drink — and where Finn had skillfully sweet-talked her out of trouble.

Its ironic. She has more in common with Ben, a brooding socially awkward man who enjoys the same things as she — reading books, going running and lounge on the couch. Perhaps they had been each other’s only person whom they liked seeing. 

Does Finn like seeing her?

Poe guides them out of the elevator and shusses them down a long narrow hallway until they reach a door at the end. He unlocks and opens the door like an actor on stage, all dramatic and giddy.

And …

Okay ....

It’s nothing like her  _ first _ studio. 

“Well. Don’t dawdle. Have a look!” Poe claps the front of a closet next to the door. “It has great storage space too!”

Rey passes the tiny bathroom to the left, the kitchen with two stove tops, a sink and something that cannot be defined as counter space, but all that is irrelevant. She doesn’t cook and she has had worse conditions shower wise.

No, what catches her eyes is the huge wall to wall glass window, barely overlooking the rooftop of the opposite building and their shared alley, but high enough to shield her from prying eyes.

It’s not a beautiful view, but it’s a view. And gosh, she can almost hear Ben, complaining about the size of it all, the small kitchen, the cheap wooden floors and strange finishes. Also it is  _ in _ the city. 

He would hate it.

But all Rey can think of is how she could buy a lounge chair just there, something thrifted and nice, a little lamp for when she wants to read — oh and a small table, to put her coffee on in the morning and …

“So. You like it?” Poe concludes from behind her. She turns to him and Finn, who look at her like a pair of proud parents. It’s really weird.

“I ...guess?” Cautious excitement blooms like a sunflower in her chest. 

Only to be squandered by a terrible guilt. How can she be happy, she’s supposed to be miserable? How can she be happy to be  _ alone _ ?

How can this stupid predicament make her happy?

What is  _ wrong _ with her.

“It’ll probably cost too much.” She adds, scrunching her nose, shrugging in defeat. 

“Wouldn’t have if you’d kept your job.” Rey shoots him a dark look, and Finn slaps his shoulder, to which he immediately laughs. “Fine fine, don’t hit me. I’m sure we can figure out a deal with the Wedge. You’re still good at fixing things right?”

“I know my way around.”

Poe swings an arm around Finn’s shoulder, “Great! It is settled then. We are neighbours.” A smirk “— and soulmate’s soulmate’s neighbour.”

Finn returns the half embrace, grinning. “We should celebrate!”

“Amazing. There’s a pizza place around the corner!”

In some kind of devious duo, both men reach towards her and drag her back out into the hall. And it's almost unfair how easily they’ve become familiar, when it took her months to even talk to Poe.

Bless her impaired social skills.

And did she just sign an apartment?

Isn't she supposed to be happier? More excited? 

Her bad mood follows her, all the way to the pizza place, when Poe whispers from next to her. “Still wearing the ring I see?”

It's instinct to hide the evidence with her other hand. Shame rolls over her and she hadn’t even thought about it, she had worn it for such a long time and — 

A hum, like he has seen through her “Don’t worry I won’t tell him.”

Rey stares straight ahead, “You still talk?”

“Bastard calls me all the time.” His lips smack as he cleans his finger off pizza grease. "It's so annoying.”

“Is he — how is he?” 

_ Is he dating? Is he sad? Relieved? Is he writing her poems begging her to come back? Is he … _

“Rey…” Poe begins, before thinning his lips, looking somewhat troubled. “I don’t think you want to talk about that.”

So they don’t.

  
  


****

  
  


2016

Ben <3  
Do you want me to pick you up?  
  
I'm leaving in 10.  
  
No its fine I already left!  
  
Ben <3  
Okay, see you there.  
  


****

  
  


“When I thought you said you’d left, I didn’t think you meant taking the bus.”

Rey blinks up from her leisurely spot on the bench next to the bus stop, where she had taken a moment to soak in the early April sun after a long day at work, unbuttoned her heavy winter coat and let in the fresh air. 

“What’s wrong with the bus?”

Ben runs a hand through his hair, half pouting, half frowning.

“You shouldn’t take the bus, when I can pick you up just fine.”

Rey stretches her arms above her head, smiling at her well-meaning but very rich, very privileged boyfriend. His gaze travels over her flowery dress in a way she very much  _ appreciates _ and which is very much  _ not _ appropriate for public display.

“I don’t wanna repeat December with Leia all over again.” And they’ve just only now gone back to some semblance of normalcy. No awkward silence or hiding her phone.

It hadn’t been explicitly stated anywhere or even agreed between them that they are officially a couple, but they are for sure dating. Or, at least what they do resembles dating. The eating out, the food trucks, walks through parks and lying in bed watching a movie on a lousy computer screen.

Oh. And of course, the sex. A lot of sex. Safe sex, and a few desperate not so safe times. And the wonderful lazy making out on his couch for several hours, his nose digging into her cheek, his plush lips slanting over hers.

Yeah. This was dating. As close to movie dating as she could think of. Her only pathetic point of life reference. 

And she is happy. So sickeningly happy.

He cocks an eyebrow, adjusting the rem of his sports bag, but it's there, she sees it — a smile threatening to burst forward. He’s not disappointed - he’s happy. 

“I’ll drive you to work tomorrow.”

“And kiss me in front of your mother?”

“So driving you to work takes kissing off the table?”

Despite having seen him almost every day, there’s a nervous fizziness in her stomach.She must look like the epitome of a hopeful young naive woman, trying to impress a man she likes, with the way she pulls on her dress, tugging her hair behind her ear.

She finds she likes that look on her.

Makes her feel normal. 

With a little swoop she jumps to her feet and steps closer to him, as if to grant him his wish. He leans down as if commanded, eyes fluttering close — 

— when she ruffles his meticulously set hair and laughs. “You’d look like this. A mess. I’m sure your boss won’t approve.”

Shaking his head, he decides to  _ take _ his reward instead, by looping his arms around her and lifts her up and into a kiss. It is slightly off center, but who cares though, he’s warm, solid and here. 

Like he has been all winter. Cuddling her, adoring her. 

Gosh, is this what every high school peer of hers would gossip about at lengths in the school yard? All hushed voices, smoking their hand rolled cigarettes and dreaming aloud about that all consuming belonging. About soulmates.

Is this it?

“You are like a little gremlin.” He pecks her lips, happiness threatening to tear through his carefully tightened seams. 

Yeah. Maybe it is.

  
  


****

  
  


Ben looks once at his watch and determines that it's too late in the afternoon for him to buy groceries and cook dinner, so they opt for something quick at the food court. Which in all honesty suits her just fine.

It’s not like she doesn’t enjoy his cooking, but it's elaborate, healthy and — 

She really wants something greasy and good.

Ben just sweetly shakes his head and dutifully wipes the corner of her mouth free of mustard, when she perfectly devours the hot dog in a few bites. She can’t say he’s smiling, but his eyes crinkle with mirth, enough so that she knows he isn’t judging her. He’s enamoured with her.

He wraps up his cleaning by leaning over the table and gives her a kiss. As if finishing his task like tying a little bow.

The sigh she gives is borderline comedic in the way her shoulders sack and her chest expands.

It makes his eyes soften like a fool in love. 

Maybe he is?

Is she?

They pick up groceries on the way out, deciding to stay at Ben’s for the night as it is closer to Rey’s work. They walk down aisle on aisle, mock fighting over her atrocious food choices and his expensive habits. She’s not sure who initiates it, but as they walk away from the cashier, his hand is intertwined with hers. His palm warm and nice against hers, as he gently leads the way.

Her heart is thumping, she can’t stop smiling. 

Who knew it could feel like this?

They stop at a small tech store, Ben apparently looking for a new phone charger. “For when you stay over.” He shyly adds.

“For when I stay over.”

Rey stands awkwardly amongst all the items on display, following her boyfriend like a young puppy, eager to please — until she spies the posters at the cinema across from the store.

It's a big yellow one, with guns and explosions, a dashing male lead and a tough but sweet love interest. It’s not really a movie that appeals to her, but that’s not what is catching her attention.

No, it's the memory of off-limits neon-lights, the smell of sweets and popcorn and coins in her pocket that really shouldn’t be wasted on this. Of people from her class walking in with their new white sneakers and Rey sitting outside.

This is why she hates going to malls.

“It looks bad.” A pair of arms circle her shoulders, he’s warm against her back, while he crouches over her form, looking up at the poster too. 

“You think?”

“Flashy. No plot. Action for action’s sake. Hero gets the girl. Formular movie.”

Rey huffs, patting his arm in a mock soothing gesture. “When did you become a movie connoisseur?”

“Oh? You didn’t know?” He deadpans, “I’m quite famous.”

Shaking her head, she chuckles “I’m sure you are.” 

“Wanna go?”

“What?”

“We have time. Wanna go?”

Rey grimaces, “I thought you said it looked bad.”

“It does,” A pause, she can almost feel him move his jaw in that thoughtful expression of his. “But I’ve never gone to a movie date before.”

“You haven’t?” 

“Nope.”

“Okay,” Rey exhales, suddenly very nervous. “Let’s go.”

  
  


****

If Ben notices her slight trembling, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he goes about the process of buying tickets like it isn’t that big of a deal, oblivious to the way his girlfriend just stands and eats it all with her eyes. Swallowing it, storing it, treasuring it. 

They buy a huge popcorn and something to drink. He gives the popcorn for Rey to hold. It smells divine.

Like lost childhoods and promising adulthood. 

Ben’s rubs her waist soothingly and she can barely make out how there’s a certain — - lightness to his step. Relaxed and in awe, like the world is presenting itself to him in an entirely new way. A new shade, a new  _ shape _ . One he has never seen, and least of all appreciated.

Or perhaps — it is just Rey projecting her own feelings about him. 

It is amazing how one person can alter your own reality so strikingly. 

“My uncle would always take me to the movies when he was here.”

The ice rumbles as she circles the straw in her cup.

“Before you lived with him?”

“Before. He lives up north now, in a cabin.”

She hums, sipping off her soda, it’s sweet and syrupy. “I don’t think I’ve met your uncle — ” and she’s pretty sure he wasn’t at Han’s funeral. 

“I haven’t seen him either - since I left.” Ben points to a numbered door a bit further down “— he’s become quite a hermit, according to my mother.”

Luke Skywalker. Rey has heard of him, it’s hard not to — but he’s mentioned so rarely and always in a hush hush tone that Rey sometimes forgot that the Skywalkers are twins. The wound is so clear she can almost taste it, a deep cutting rift that no one wants to try and heal in case it makes it worse.

A young boy accepts the tickets and guides them into the darkness.

“Will you ever tell me what happened between all of you?” Rey whispers, tracing a knuckle against his hand. 

“Someday.” Ben pauses and whispers in return — “will you tell me about Jakku?”

“I will.”

“But not now.” He confirms, tugging her into the seat next to him. They are soft yet squeaky. Rey spies across the hall, they appear alone except for a group of rowdy teenagers sitting in the middle rows.

“Not now.” 

Commercials roll, followed by trailers, Ben sits all longlimbed and uncomfortable next to her. She reaches over to hold his hand. He smiles, not looking at her directly, but he smiles. The theater grows dark, and she can barely make him out.

It makes her feel brave.

“Ben?”

He hums, the loud speakers are almost deafening. It's too much were it not for how happy, sated, she is, here in the darkness.

“I’ve never had movie popcorn before.” The words stick in her throat, begging to remain there. But he deserves to know - deserves — “I’ve never been to the movies either.”

At first he doesn’t say anything, only thing that indicates he heard her is his thumb caressing her knuckles. And then he simply whispers, in his own endearing way. “Well, you better get started before I eat all of them then — and pay attention.”

“Why?” 

This time he looks at her, the flashing screen makes the colors dance across his dramatic face. Blues, reds, yellows, purples. He looks beautiful. Ethereal.

Like the stormy waves deep within her.

“Because I’m gonna quiz you later.”

Rey laughs loud enough for the rowdy teenagers to shush her. 

****

She tells him about Jakku a few afternoons later, poised on his kitchen counter-top as she watches him cut a watermelon into bite-size pieces. She tells him about the caravan, the morning where no one was there, where no one came back and only when she was starving did she go outside. She tells him about the years in foster care, the fucked up places she stayed, how the best gift she ever got was some hand me down socks with teddybears.

She tells him about the scrap yard, why she has a scar on her wrist, why she knows...unfortunately, how to fix things. 

And in the end, that’s it. The story doesn’t change and neither will she. Forever will she carry it with her, burdening and uplifting her.

“Han showed me a different way.” Rey sighs, rubbing her clammy neck, swinging her pajama clad legs. It's hard to look at Ben, to see his disappointment, his disdain “— I guess he showed me you too.”

The knife clangs gently as he places it next to the cut pieces, but he doesn’t move closer. He just...stares into the air, one hand covering his mouth.

_ “Fuck, Rey.” _

She gives him a halfhearted smile, maybe it wasn’t the right moment to bring it up. But he had been so nice and gentle this morning, waking her with his mouth, taking care of her in shower, her pushed up against the cold wet tiles while he coaxed her orgasm with his cock — and now cooking her breakfast while she just sits like a pretty bouquet of flowers.

Safety. That is what this is. Why she opens the box with her fears. Her nightmares.

“I’m the one no one loves.” She adds, licking her lips, trying to stop the tears. “I don’t belong to anyone. I — I always just hoped that my soulmate would show up, take me off into the sunset.”

A sniffle, followed by a bitter laugh “— I probably don’t have that either.”

“I do.”

“What?”

He steps away from the counter, rounding her like a predator, desperate, almost — angry. 

“I  _ love _ you.”

Rey blinks, frozen and stunned — what did he?

“Ben — ”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel better.” He spits the words, roughly pulling on her arm, forcing her to open her thighs to embrace him. “I love you.”

“Why?” Her voice shakes, his intensity bordering on violent. 

“Because you can’t walk around believing no one loves you — ” A hand reaches up to cup her cheek, “— when  _ someone _ does. Very much. It’s an insult.”

She should’ve known not to talk when he seemed so careful, but he had been so gentle, so kind. 

“I’m ...sorry?”

He shakes his head, cheeks dimpling slightly. “Gremlin.”

He loves her.

He loves her.

Someone loves her.

“Ben?” She reaches over his shoulders, tugging him down into a warm embrace. One where their hearts beat in motion, where they belong. He hums a  _ yes _ into her neck, nuzzling her.

“Can  _ someone-who-loves-me _ drive me to work?”

  
  


****

"General" Leia  
Don’t think I didn’t see you and Ben making out in the company parking lot this morning.  
  
Next time keep the kissing pg13 okay.  
[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/772884086623698944/chapter11.jpg)  
  
Sunday Roast Dinner at my house this week  
  
Bring Ben.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I almost added a cinema blow job. RIP cinema blow job. I'll make it up for you in the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: there's brief mention of someone seeing someone else, but which proves to be a straight up lie. (I'm looking at you Ben). Also Ben could be argued is sexually harassing Rey over the phone. 
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!

#  Chapter 12

****

2021

It’s May.

Things are better.

That’s at least what she tells herself, every morning as she brushes her teeth in front of the mirror. Or when she makes her coffee and looks up job openings (and colleges in secret) on her computer. 

It’s become a mantra of sorts, and maybe one day, if she says it enough times, she’ll find that it's true.

Reality though is not better, but some things are  _ easier _ . 

Like getting up, putting on pants — she’s even gone for a run. 

Finn, Rose and Poe definitely help. They distract her, take her out for beers, drop by with random thrifted furniture, Poe’s spare bed, and some tacky alpaca duvet covers. It’s not pretty, but it will be in time. 

She’s not sure about the huge printed poster of her and Poe he insisted on hanging over her bed though. Sure it looks nice. They are laughing like they are best pals at some company function — lips stained with red wine. 

“ — to remind you that you can’t get rid of me.”

She had laughed at that. 

It all feels nice, hopeful, and the ache in her settles a little. 

Yeah, some things are easier. But not every day. 

Some days there are things that remind her too much of Ben, of the two of them. Something on the TV, a random thing he’s given her (despite her  _ relationship-artifact-springcleaning _ ) and then things get very much harder.

And in those moments, the connection she has with Finn makes all the difference. The way a touch from him soothes her weeping soul, how a hug can make her buzz with inner calm. It’s addictive and she understands little by little why they say soulmates can be the source of wars and of peace.

In all honesty, this break up, despite the hurt, hasn’t been as messy as she had feared. 

That was her first mistake. 

“So,” Rose begins, sipping off her cup of coffee as the table considers their next move, “how do you like it here? Poe isn’t bothering you too much?”

Looking up from the board game, Rey muses for a short while, giving the ceiling a contemplative glance as if the question is particularly hard. 

Her  _ neighbour _ coughs from behind her, while fumbling with the music app on his phone, apparently they are listening to something a date of his had shown him. “Excuse me. I’m an excellent living-companion.”

Rey whistles. “Really Poe? You came knocking on my door in the middle of the night to tell me  _ I’m bringing a date home! Don’t come over _ .” Finn hides his mouth in a secret laugh, looking away.

Her chair wobbles when Poe lightly kicks the back. She laughs, the easy friendship, the music playing in the background, and lazy afternoon snacks nursing her heart open, by just a little. When was the last time she relaxed like this? Playing some strange board game at Poe’s and making jokes with people she cares about.

“Well, do you like it?”

“It’s...different.” Rey rests her chin in her palm, while she moves her piece across the board. “It’s all very new, everything works — nothing like...where I lived before. It was an old house. So many things that needed to be fixed and I’m pretty sure it was haunted.”

“Haunted?” Rose exclaims with some excitement. “Why didn’t you say? I would’ve loved to see it for myself.”

Rey blinks at her, her hand pausing above the square. “You… have you never visited?” Hadn’t she lived there for what...four years? That can’t be right.

“Nope.” 

“Me neither.” Poe interjects. “When I moved some boxes for Ben last week it was my —” he falters immediately, clasping a hand over his mouth, very aware of the slip up.

Rey draws a breath. He had made good out of not mentioning Ben at all in the weeks she had stayed, too good in fact — but, they are still seeing each other? Are they like, friends?

“It’s okay,” she soothes. “I’m glad he has someone.”

No one says anything, but everyone is thinking something. 

Rose rescues them from the awkward silence. “What’s the address? I wanna check it out on Google maps.”

No harm, the scavenger assumes and gives it to Rose — it’s not like the little engineer will go TP’ing their house, no, wait — she totally would.

Finn leans over from his spot next to the tiny woman as she scrolls over the search results, and then he says.

“Wait, You’re selling it?”

_ Wait, what? _

Rey grabs the phone back. No one and least of all Ben had said anything about selling the house. 

But it's there, bright as day, their address, their house,  _ their life, _ up for sale.

It’s been up for two months.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She spins to  _ snarl _ at her neighbour.

Poe simply shrugs, sipping desperately from his cup. “Chill, princess. It’s not my place to say.”

“Well, no one else is telling me.” It’s automatic, pulling up his number on the phone. Did he ever plan on telling her? Or did he just plan on selling it all, including her stuff in some strange comeback at her — the stuff she had been too much of a coward to ask if she could come pick up.

The words practically write themselves.

You are selling the house!?  
  


She slams the phone on the table, face down, and finishes moving her piece. But she’s seething, the smoke is almost visible from the way her blood is boiling. He’s selling the house. After everything he’s selling the —

Unflipping the phone she begins to type anew.

“Rey, maybe —” Rose begins —

I can’t bLiv you just did that  
  
such a shitty move!  
  


“ — you shouldn’t do that right now.”

Her phone plings.

ASSHOLE  
Hello, Rey.  
  
Are you selling it!?  
  
ASSHOLE  
Yes.  
  
And when were you gonna tell me?  
  
ASSHOLE  
I’m telling you now.  
  


For one glorious moment, Rey successfully manages to recognize the bait. You don’t spend five years together with a man and not learn his tells. When he is intentionally riling her up to get her to talk to him.

It was his favorite way of breaking her walls of silence whenever he pissed her off — to just piss her more off by being vague and frustrating. So they’d yell for a few hours, until the anger tipped over into passion, and once they had fucked out their disagreement, peace had settled between them.

Yeah. He is riling her up — and she’s not gonna let him.

She lasts all five minutes of awkward silence, before she grabs the phone and storms out Poe’s apartment.

“Rey!” Finn yells. His chair screeches in a futile attempt at chasing her down.

But while they are soulmates, there’s one thing Finn has not yet learned about her.

Her tendency to bullhead into trouble.

She runs down the stairs to her floor, shoving the door open with her shoulder and slamming it shut with her foot. Her hand shakes with adrenaline and pent up anger, but her thumb manages to hit the call icon.

He picks up immediately.

For a while, all they share is their breathing, as if they are both surprised that this even happened. It has been so many months, so so many months.

“ _ Rey _ .”

Oh yeah. This is a mistake already. 

She slides down the front door, slumping at the edge, while she closes her eyes as if in pain.

Maybe she is?

“Why?” Rey demands. “You loved that house.”

There’s music in the background, static and low. Is he home? Somewhere else? Is he even in the city anymore? All eager to move on.

Maybe he’s lying on their couch, staring up at the ceiling with that weird stain that looks like a squirrel.

Maybe he’s lying in bed with someone — not her.

“ _ You  _ loved _ the house _ .” Ben corrects, “ —  _ I loved  _ you _ in it. _ ”

A groan. “You are a piece of work aren’t you. That doesn’t make sense. You bought it without me ever seeing it.”

_ “True.” _ The music fades, like he’s moving out of the room.  _ “But it's not a lie. You did love it.” _

Did she love it? Or did she like the idea of it? Them sharing a space, her feeling like a normal girl living a normal life with her boyfriend.

She presses a palm over her eyes.

“You could still have told me — instead of me stumbling over it  _ online _ .”

A pause, the line breaks a little. 

_ “You never replied to my text.” _ She can hear his breath blowing on the mic.  _ “I assumed you preferred radio silence.” _

It’s annoying to hear him dissect her reactions, because he is right. But he is also wrong. She had longed for him at night, desperate to call him, to show up at his door — but she feared him doing the same to her. What would she even do? Her heart has not even healed, much less scabbed over. 

_ “My mother is not angry with you. _ ” He adds, almost like an afterthought. 

It feels unfair that Ben can continue to talk to Leia, while she is forced to hide in obscurity. Too cowardly to talk to her, and her former boss has no blood ties that obligates her to be familiar with her.

“We can talk.” She suggests half-heartedly.

_ “No. Little scavenger. _ ” His bitter laugh cracks through the speaker. “ _ — we can’t.” _

“Then what about all my stuff? How did you expect me to know to pick it up?”

A sigh.  _ “Storage?” _

Sometimes he’s so frustratingly dumb. 

“Why are you selling it? Say it.”

A cabinet door opens and she recognises the sound of glass. So he is home. He uses the activity to pause, to keep up the suspense.

“ _ Ghosts _ .” 

“Ghosts?”

_ “Sometimes good ghosts, sometimes bad ghosts. Mostly it’s just you.” _

She wishes she could hate him for that, for rejecting their shared past. But she would lie, if she didn’t admit that she knew those ghosts he spoke off. The ones that haunted her too. To live in a space of trauma and tragedy.

Still.

“Any...viewings?”

_ “A couple. No bids yet.” _ He slurps something, the floorboards creak. Then he chuckles bitterly. “ _ You and your soulmate aren’t interested in buying a little house together, aren’t you?” _

It stings. His resentment masked in politeness.

The sound of glass shattering. He curses, slurring on the words.

Rey sits up, blinking.

“Are you — drunk?”

The phone scratches, which could sound like a chuckle. “ _ Are you concerned? _ ”

“Of course I’m — ” Rey runs a hand over her mouth, “ — it's in the middle of the afternoon.”

_ “So you can read a clock, good girl.” _ He sounds exhausted, like this is not the first drink of the day  _ “Why are you calling Rey?” _

She paces to the window, staring out at the city skyline. “Well, you decided to sell the house without me!”

A hum, “ _ No, that’s not it.” _

She snorts, because it is about  _ that _ . Sure there might be other threads entangled into it. Like she misses him, she hates him. The house was the last thing they had together, a place of good memories and a place she could —

— come back to.

It’s a dangerous realization, partially because him selling the house makes that hope instantly redundant. How will she even articulate that without bursting into tears? To reveal her deepest fears and dreams to a man with the power to crush them in his bare fist. 

There’s just not the same trust as before.

And then he says, very unprompted.

Very much not appreciated. 

_ “I went on a date the other night.” _

She jumps away from the window as if shocked, audible gasping and snarling “I don’t want to hear about that!”

_ “She was nice. Friendly.”  _ He rants on, undeterred, slurring a bit on his words.  _ “In another time, I might have been inclined.” _

“I’m hanging up.”

She doesn’t. Like the little masochist she is.

_ “Unsurprisingly, she was looking for her soulmate.” _ The bitterness drips off his tongue even more clearly when he’s drunk.  _ “A cruel world. Where love only happens to those destined for it.” _

“You know that’s not true.”

_ “She was pretty, too. Tall, young.” _ A sigh, he sounds like a man in terrible pain. “ _ But you know what, Rey?” _

Slightly — no —  _ very _ annoyed, “what?”

_ “While we sat there, all I could think of was _ your tits.”

If this is his drunk half-assesses attempt at seduction, Rey feels none of the usual heat. She falls back on her bed, feeling weirdly out of breath.

“When did you become so cruel?”

_ “Oh. Rey.” _ His voice is husky, like he has spent all last night smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey. Is this why Poe wouldn’t tell her? Afraid she’d stumble onto this.  _ “I’ve always been cruel.” _

Then she makes her second mistake — the first one being to call him at all.

“Did you —” gosh, the words, they feel choking “ — with her?”

Ben croons, strangely smug.  _ "Are you jealous?" _

“No, Ben. Not at all.” Rey deadpans “ — now let me go over all the guys I’ve spread my legs for the past couple of months!”´

_ “Have you?” _

"Have what?" 

_ "Slept with anyone?" _

She considers telling a lie. It would hurt him, she knows. Like he is hurting her now, riling her up and ribbing off the makeshift band aid on her soul, baring her open. Ridiculing her.

But what is the point any longer?

To sink down on his level would be to suffocate with him.

"Of course not." 

A pause.

_ "Why?"  _

She snorts. "Because I'm  _ sad _ ." 

He sounds genuinely upset. _ “Don’t be sad Rey.”  _ Whining like a wounded animal.  _ “ — I’m sorry. Don’t be sad. Not now.” _

“Several months too late, Ben.”

_ “ — We aren’t done talking about them.”  _ A groan, the sound of fabric moving.  _ “ — let me, you don’t have to say anything, just let me remember — your tits.” _

“What?” She croaks, squirming. 

_ “I remember —” _ A blissful exhale,  _ “ — that time in the cab. When you let me kiss them, but only kiss them. I had to wait, be patient for us to be home. I was so hard Rey.” _

Shocked, confused, Rey stays silent. What can she even say to that?

_ “Do you remember, Rey?” _

“Yes.”

_ “You let me trail my hand under your shirt, fondling you right in front of the driver. Drove you crazy.”  _ A gasp, then a moan. 

Is he?

“Ben —?”

_ “Just...” _ His breath gets more laboured.  _ “Just...let me just...one time.” _

There’s no doubt in her mind that what she should do is hang up immediately. Erase the fallacy they are about to make.

But she doesn’t. 

He still wants her. 

She draws a hand up to her chest, and sinks down into her soft bed. Her face feels hot, like a fever. 

_ “Oh Rey.” _ A grunt, “ —  _ tell me. Do you remember when I whisked you away at Leia’s summer party so I could fuck you in the ass — all while everyone was getting drunk next door.” _ The line scratches, but she hears his laugh.  _ “Made you miss the whole thing.” _

She does remember that, her buzzed and him so big inside her, working her to the edge only to show her how much more she could take. She claws at her shirt.

“I do.”

_ “— Or when we kissed like teenagers in the cinema. I got you all riled up, so wet. You couldn’t even wait until we got back.” _ The unmistakable sound of skin slapping overrides every sane thought she has  _ “So you blew me in the car. It was a miracle Iasted that long. Gorgeous.” _

“Ben.”

_ “Are you — do you remember Rey?” _

“I do — ”

She really shouldn't do this. She really really shouldn’t. All of her instincts, the sane and insane ones scream at her to stop, but the huskiness of his voice, his desperation.

Her hand slides effortlessly past the elastic band on her leggings.

No need to overthink this. It’s just —

_ “Fuck.” _ His voice is wet, like he’s close to tears.  _ “That first time, when you kissed me at Leia’s Christmas function. How beautiful you looked right then. Snow stuck in your hair, cheeks all flushed” _

Her lips squelch, she’s that wet, when she draws a finger down and up her cunt. 

“You didn’t kiss me back.” She moans.

_ “I’m a fool.” _ An admittance he should have made years ago, if you ask her, but that’s not what makes him pause  _ “Rey, are you?” _

She nods, to no one but herself, busy drawing a hand over her lips, flicking her clit. And then she goes.

“Did you make her pancakes?”

A gasp, genuine surprise and then the slapping gets faster.  _ “I only make pancakes for you.” _

“I want pancakes.”

_ “Fuck — fuck —” _

She presses her finger in, but it's not enough, it’s not like  _ his _ . 

“I want you to —” come over. Kiss me. Love me. Hold me. Lick me until my cunt is sore and pink. Fuck me untill I cry into the pillows. Make me pancakes. Love me. “ — make me pancakes.”

He’s close, she can hear it. The static of the phone doesn’t mask the heightened grunts. And it does nothing good for her. It’s been so long since she has even bothered taking care of herself. The thread is suspended, tight, it’ll snap any second.

“ _ Rey _ .” He breathes.

“Did you fuck her?”

A grunt, then a moan, followed by a clipped —  _ “no.” _

“I miss you.” The coil tightens, she’s there, right there. “I want us to work it out.”

He cums with a muffled yell, and she follows him, wetting her panties and her leggings. She groans into the phone, desperate for him to hear, for him to feel what he does to her.

A moment passes where they say nothing, where their breaths intermingle over the speakers. 

And then he swallows.

“ _ You have a soulmate.” _

She blinks. “Wait — what —” 

He doesn’t reply.

Despite the feeling of peace and harmony, it doesn’t stop her flinging herself up, hissing into the speaker.

“What is this then? Some...some...pity phonesex!” The betrayal makes her eyes sting — “Why are you...that’s horrible!”

He grows serious. “You shouldn’t have called.”

She begins to sob, in earnest. “Ben —”

A part of her hopes he is conflicted, that he hangs up by mistake, that he is desperate to call her back. Heck, maybe he is running to her now?

A knock on the door, and it’s not Ben. It’s Finn.

Yeah. Things are not better.

And sometimes they aren’t easier.

Some things are just downright shitty.

She deletes his number.

  
  
  


****

2017

  
  
  


They break up briefly for 2 hours on the anniversary of Han’s death.

It’s not that they haven’t fought before. However, to what she guesses is both of their surprise, their days are mostly calm and they speak in gentle voices when addressing a problem, trying to explain, trying to understand. The knowledge that they both are hurt people whose emotional life has continuously been set aside for others, somehow makes them vulnerable and empathic enough to try and not repeat past mistakes.

But there are only so many times they can do that without slipping into their default defense mechanisms. It’s wired into the fabric of their relationship that they disagree and surrender is not an option. 

Still. It hadn’t ever been like this before.

Actually, the evening had been rather nice. They were all gathered in the Skywalker cabin: Chewie, some of Han’s old friends, Leia, Ben and Rey. No sign of the infamous Luke Skywalker. Stories were exchanged, laughter was shared — even Ben, although reluctant, told about that one time he had snuck aboard the falcon to join a heist. He had been seven.

The cicadas sing outside, the record player plays a gentle tune in the back. It’s really all great.

Ben holds her hand in his, brushing his thumb across the knuckles soothingly. A small smile threatens to break free, but he keeps up a valiant fight. 

She’s so in love with him. 

And then — Lando? — asks.

“So, how did the job interview go, Ben?”

Both Leia and Rey flip their attention to him. 

What job interview?

A dark expression crosses the dark prince’s face, and he moves his jaw without breaking eye contact with his pseudo uncle. He tightens his hold on her hand.

“It went well.” 

“I didn’t know you were looking for a new job.” His mother asks from the end of the table, the whiskey she’s nursing shining gold in the candle light.

“It — They headhunted me.” 

“Well, who?”

Rey narrows his eyes, going over the last few weeks in her head — and no, never once had he even briefly mentioned having to prepare for an interview, least of all shown interest in seeking new opportunities. Sure he had flown out for a few days but that was for a —

“The First Order.”

Chewie sputters on his wine, the drops merging into his beard. Leia raises her eyebrows, and the rest just — sit.

Rey leans over the table, hissing “They fired you for going to your father’s funeral —” Ben raises a finger, but she interrupts him before he can say whatever dumb argument he has “ — and it's like in the other end of the country!”

“I haven’t said yes to the thing, Rey.”

“Then why were you even going!?”

“It pays well and it's a great opportunity.”

She sputters. What is this? When did this become a great opportunity? “You hated it there.”

“They are offering changed terms.”

“And what then? Would you move there? What about me?”

A heavy loaded silence falls over the tiny cabin and they all stare at each other like they are a group of cowboys facing off in a gunfight. 

“Ben —” His mother attempts after a moment, looking somehow strangely afraid.

Rey rises from her chair, ripping her hand from his — the table wobbles in response, the coffee spills. “I can’t — you did this without — why am I the last to know?”

He stands too, looking a little panicky, but mostly annoyed. Nostrils flaring. “I was going to tell you if I got it.”

“That’s —”

“Okay.” Leia stands too, palms raised like a bouncer in a club breaking off a drunken stupor. “Let’s talk about this calmly —” and then with a pointed gaze “ — like adults.”

The betrayal — the uncertainty — what does this even mean for them? And why did he feel like he couldn’t share it? Was he just waiting for the ample opportunity where he could break the news that he’s moving cross country and they are breaking up.

No. She is not gonna do this. Not on his terms. And not here. 

“ — I think I’m going home.” Rey announces, marching into the hallway to grab her helmet and her jacket. 

Ben follows her like a hawk. Of course he is.

“Don’t do this here.” He half hisses, half whispers. “I was going to tell you.”

“Oh? When? — would I just wake up one morning to a note saying ‘hey, I’ve moved away, have a good life?’”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not —”

She wobbles on one foot as she throws on her boots, why did she choose the one with so many laces. “What’s ridiculous Ben is that you fly out somewhere, have a job interview and not tell  _ your girlfriend _ !”

“I wanted it to be a surprise!”

The air is warm outside, it’ll be summer soon. “Well. I’m surprised!”

He awkwardly runs after her down the steps, chasing her in his misguided belief that he’s in the right. 

“There’s no point planning things if I don’t get it.” A hand grasps for her arm, but she twists away. “I wasn’t just gonna pack my stuff and leave.”

“You did that once before with your parents.” The helmet buckle shakes as she tries to fasten it under her chin. “Who says you won’t just houdini on me.”

“You are being a fucking child right now!” Ben snarls, throwing his hands into the air. “I did it for us.”

“No, you didn’t!” The tupperware box with cake falls to the ground, leftovers spilling everywhere. “You thought about you — but let me help you.  _ There’s no us anymore! _ ”

“That’s it.” He announces, suddenly serious and demanding. “You are drunk, you aren’t going anywhere.” And just like that, he grabs her by the waist and lifts her up to carry her into the house.

Until she — accidentally — elbows him in the face.

  
  


****

Leia  
His nose isn’t broken.  
  
Go to bed sweetheart, we’ll be home soon.  
  


  
  


****

The couch is old and smells like stale cigars with a faint hint of beer. Surprisingly though, it is not the memory of one particular foster home that floods her mind, but Han instead. How he’d smoke in secret and whenever Rey caught him, just give her a silly wink and take a sip of her beer.

Maybe the old man is beginning to take over her memories, replacing the bad ones with good ones.

Sometimes Ben smells of cigarettes too, despite saying he’s trying to cut down. 

She wonders if he got that from his dad? She pictures Ben smoking on the roof of their building, desperately trying to hide it before sneaking back down and into their bed? Sometimes she wonders if he even likes it, or if it's just some rebellious teenage act that stuck around and now he’s too used to it. Who would he even be without it?

Rey wonders if the couch smells of Han because he too got in a fight, exiled to the couch to drink and smoke his sorrows away. Leia probably knew.

But as she had overheard them say: They drove each other crazy, but when they were away from each other they missed each other. 

Ben drives her crazy too, but there’s never a moment she doesn’t want to be there lounging his big arms, pecking his stubbles.

The job interview though, it changes everything. 

Long distance never works. And Rey doesn’t want to move, she’s only just started to feel at home here.

Rey sighs, turning over on her side, so she’s facing the back of the couch. It’s scratchy and dusty, and she’s exhausted, but she can’t sleep.

Maybe it's better they break up now. He’ll move away, they’ll talk for a while and then like everything else it just fizzles out.

What if he meets his soulmate there? What would that mean for Rey? Would she be the one stopping him from being truly happy?

But he wouldn’t be happy there. She knows that. The stories, that one time he had cried as he talked about how he first got fired, the struggle — how he for a while hated his father for dying. For ruining his opportunity. 

That’s just those crooked words of Snoke. Ben won’t be happy there and Rey even less so.

She can’t possibly go with him. She can’t.

The boards outside her room creak and with a small twist, the knob turns on the door. 

It’s no surprise to see her boyfriend of a year emerge from the dark hallway and then close the door.

In the brief light from the hall, she sees the plaster covering the bridge of his nose.

“What are you doing in here?” she whispers into the darkness.

He tiptoes over to the pull-out couch, denting the cushions as he unfolds the covers and slides himself under the bedding. “Didn’t want to sleep without you.” And like always, like every night he folds his arms around her, pulling her close enough for her ribs to ache.

And when she squirms, still angry, he whispers — “Rey. You can be angry with me tomorrow.”

“No. I’m angry with you now.” She pulls at his fingers to unravel his grip. It remains tight and serious. “And don’t think you can sneak in here and sweet talk me.”

He kisses her jaw, just below the ear. 

“I’m not here to sweet talk.” He maneuvers her around so she’s facing him, her on her back and him spooning her side. It's too dark to make out his expression, but she feels the tenderness with which he kisses her cheek. “I’m here to fall asleep with my girlfriend.”

“Well. Maybe you should have thought about that before accepting that job.”

“Rey. I haven’t said yes to anything.” A kiss on her nose. “It’s just an interview. Now let me kiss you goodnight.”

She wiggles below him, trying to hide her face for him to kiss. “No.” It doesn’t sound as harsh or finite as she wants it to.

“I know. I know. You can’t forgive me.” He kisses the spot below her eye, the one with a freckle he likes “But let a poor man kiss his girlfriend goodnight. Let him tell her he loves her.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a weak exhale. It’s the middle of the night, and she’s so tired, there’s no energy left but to feel her sadness. “It's in another city. I don’t want to move. I just...I just got settled.”

He pulls away. “That isn’t why you are angry.”

Even in the dead of the night, where he possibly can’t see the grimace she makes, he manages to see her tells. The anxiety, the childhood fears.

His hand reaches down, cradling her face. He sounds like he wants to laugh, but not because it's funny. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Long distance doesn’t work.” She counters, “I — don’t want to be the thing that wasn’t important enough. The one you could leave behind.”

A sigh, his nose breathes hot air on her skin. Then a kiss, on her mouth, a light peck. 

“You truly underestimate how much you mean to me.” She doesn’t kiss him back, but she doesn’t pull away either. “Rey, you could try and throw me out the door, hit me with your shoes, but I wouldn’t leave you.”

His hand travels down to rest on her waist, to direct her slightly closer to him and his warm body. “And if you stay here, I’ll —  _ this job _ , I’m good at it.” Another kiss, this one produces a sigh from her. “ — and I miss it, it's a great opportunity.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” His mouth presses against hers, this time longer, firmer. “But you don’t have to be, not tonight.”

Rey circles her arms around his shoulders, cursing this terrible existence, this dependence, her love of him. “Promise me.”

“I’ll never leave you, Rey. Never.”

“Are we broken up?”

“Not if I can help it.”

  
  


****

  
  


They call him a few days later, on a Sunday officially offering him the position. He looks happy, smiling into the phone.

He kisses her hair the following morning when he flies out to negotiate the terms of his contract.

Rey turns off her phone. 

  
  


****

  
  


He’s gone for a week. Much longer than he’d initially planned.

A text pings at 3 am, short and concise. 

Ben <3  
I landed safely.  
  
See you soon.  
  


She stares at it for a while, before replying with a short —

OK  
  


She supposes that was his way of saying he wouldn’t come over to spend the night. Which made  _ sense _ . But this isn’t about sense. Ben has never been about that. It’s always been about desire, loneliness, and having someone. 

They’ve been together for a year. Perhaps Ben has grown beyond that now? Maybe he needs something different?

It’s a thought that takes up far too much headspace. She brings it with her into the shower, to her small kitchen table and into work. All words she tries to read blurs, and maybe there’s a headache coming along. 

Is she getting sick? Maybe she should take a half day.

“Are you hiding?”

She jumps, too lost to her own self destruction to notice the cause of her worries lean over the divider to her desk. Jacket slung over an arm, hair freshly showered. He looks nice.

Why is he here? Since they’ve gotten together they’ve avoided mingling at Leia’s office, favoring meeting up in the parking lot.

Rey swallows, “Hi.”

He slides into her small cubicle, and gives her a kiss. He looks happy, practically glowing. Poe grins from the opposite cubicle, giving Rey an obnoxious thumbs up. She returns it with a glare. 

“Are you busy?” 

A thousand random pieces of paper are flooding her desk, she isn’t even half done with her daily chores, and there’s also the — “I — I should —”

“She isn’t busy.” Leia calls from the end of the hall, drinking her usual coffee. “She can go.”

Ben smiles. The negotiations must have gone great, why else would he be so happy? And he’s probably here to relieve her to give her the bad news as soon as possible, so they can plan their uncoupling. 

“I can go.” She repeats, he’s already picking up her bag. “Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise.”

  
  


****

“You... _ bought _ a house”

They are standing, a few blocks away from Leia’s house, looking up at the steps of a small brown house with blue shutters and a big elk tree in the front yard. It’s already been vacated. From their vantage point she can recognize the naked walls and the lack of anything resembling someone living there.

Out of all the things she had imagined while they drove to an unknown destination, this was not on her top ten of possibilities, if at all.

“I bought a house.” He confirms with a tinge of pride.

It buzzes in her brain, all the contradicting information, making her feel slightly dizzy. It’s like whiplash, going from him possibly leaving her to him suddenly buying property in the very city he wouldn’t be working in. 

“I — why?”

He shrugs, swinging the keys around his finger. “I didn’t like the apartment, and it’s not like I could crash at yours - so —” he gestures at the house, as if that is supposed to make all of it have any resemblance of sense.

“Ben.” She rubs her eyes, the lack of sleep catching up with her. “Please, I — You leave for a week to discuss a job in the other end of the country! A non-commutable one — and then you come back and on that same day you...bought a house.”

“Yes?”

“I’m — I don’t understand.”

He threads their fingers together, fisting their palms together and smiles. “Let’s go inside. I want to show you around.” — and leads them up the five cobble steps to the brown wooden door. The lock crunches as he turns it and guides her into the small hall.

It’s dusty, it smells of new paint. 

“Ben.” She tries again, a bit more insistently. “What is all this? Did you —”

Her words are smothered by sheer force with which he kisses her. Excited beyond compare — when was the last time she’s ever seen him like this? He practically glows as he smiles into their kiss.

“It’s gonna work out.” He exhales as he pulls away. “I demanded to be based here and only a few times a year go to the main office.”

She blinks, asking a question she doesn’t know the words to.

A nod, his cheeks dimple, and the hands on her cheeks are cold and clammy from outside. “They accepted it. And you won’t have to go anywhere.”

“And you...bought a house. Ben, when did you do all of this?”

Ignoring her frantic questions, he takes her by the shoulders and guides her to what she supposes is the living room. “I walked by, liked it, so I bought it.” He pecks the freckles on her shoulder, pointing at some obscure spot on the wooden floors. “I’m thinking about some couches there, the TV on that wall.”

He takes her to the kitchen next, clinging to her like an overeager child. Something she is not sure she has ever been witness to. It’s a nice kitchen, he’s right about that. The wooden countertops and the big french doors opening into the small yard. 

“You can sit here,” he taps the little wooden stool at the breakfast bar. “While I make dinner. So I won’t burn you like the other times.”

She can see it, her in her pajamas and him in a dumb apron and underwear. The radio plays while they chat softly. 

Yeah, she can see it.

But sometimes they’ll have to stay at hers. She can’t be here every day. Her stuff is somewhere else.

The idea is compelling though.

The upstairs is nice too, with a bedroom overlooking the yard and an en suite bathroom. It even has a bathtub. It’s all very nice. It will be nice staying over, preferable to her own place, but mostly a better change from his and the neighbours stare.

“I’m thinking of making an office slash library in here.” Rey nods, agreeing. He’d probably want wall to wall bookshelves for all his books that lie in clusters all over his current apartment. “ — and over there I was gonna make a little nook for you and your trinkets.” His smile almost burns into her hair, where he’s resting his chin. 

“I think we’ll like it here.”

Rey freezes. “Wait — what?”

“I know you don’t have a lot of things — and we have talked about —”

“We have  _ talked _ about my place being small. We have talked about your shitty neighbours.” She turns and pulls away from him. “We haven’t talked about buying a house.”

Annoyed, he frowns. “It’ll happen sooner or later Rey.”

“Ben, I can’t possibly afford living here! How much is this anyway —?”

“It’s okay, I used some inheritance —”

“Ben! You can’t just...you can’t just do that!” She laughs, feeling like she’s going crazy. “First the job and now you just buy a house — that I haven’t seen! — and expect me to — move in with you.” 

Looking genuinely puzzled, he says out loud. “What the — you just ranted the other night about me leaving you.” He draws a contemplating hand over his mouth, “I thought you’d be happy. I’m staying.”

“That’s besides the point!” 

The stairs creak as she marches down from it. It’s just all too much. What does it all mean? Why is he acting like this all of a sudden? Where’s the connection, them deciding stuff amongst them and not just him speeding ahead a hundred miles an hour while she is still at the bus stop. If she moves in will she suddenly owe him a lot of money if it all goes sour? Does he expect something in return?

He follows her into the bathroom, huffing, the excitement he carried replaced with a sulking hunch of his shoulders. An angry gaunt. 

“You want me to annul it. I still can.”

Rey turns on the faucet to splash cold water onto her face, making her sputter the words. “I don’t know.”

“Well what do you  _ know _ , Rey?” A dog barks in the distance, it's very quiet here. “What do you want? You want me to stay, but now you don’t want to stay with me.”

She flips her head to him, her lips thin from holding back the urge to fight him — physically. “I want for stuff to not go over my head. I want this to be my decision too and not just — something you throw at me!”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well. I am  _ surprised _ . Again” 

Ben throws his hands up in the air, as if needing to throw punches at something. “Fuck I — I thought you’d be over the moon — but as always I can’t do anything right - not with you, my mother —”

“That’s not what this is.” They are standing toe to toe now. “This is about you, after a year of dating, suddenly throwing into my face that you are getting a new job — and have bought us a house.” 

He pants, but she doesn’t let him reply. “I’ve spent an entire life having people make decisions for me. I don’t want you to overrule my thoughts over some ancient...romantic sentiment.”

His hands twist, as she holds them, staring him straight into his eyes. These two stubborn people, their tempers burning through each other. It makes her whisper.

“Don’t throw me out of your loop.” A man shouts at the dog outside. “I want to live with you. I do. I just want to decide it... _ with you _ .”

For a moment, all Ben does is to let his eyes swirl between hers, searching for something — or maybe he’s trying to gauge his words, before grumbling. “Do  _ you _ want  _ me _ to annul it?”

“It’s very expensive.” She sighs. “I can’t pitch in.”

“You being here is payment enough.” By their tangled hands, he pulls her close, never once breaking eye contact. “You reading a book in the nook upstairs. You sitting in the garden when it's hot outside, you sipping wine at the dining table. That’s payment enough”

“Ben —” 

He walks them both back into the bathroom, the angry heat of his cheeks taking a different form. Her back hits the counter, still wet from her splashing. A year ago she would have squirmed, been almost frightened of his passion, the way he yearns for her.

Now, she knows him. 

A hand caresses her hip soothingly, drawing innocent little circles by its palm, but it feels anything but. It’s a burn, scalding her skin. She turns her chin at him, parting her lips.

“I promise you. I’ll never keep you out of our loop.” She swallows, her dress denting on the marble countertop. “ — let me ask you, do you want to move in with me?”

Deciding to actually give this a serious thought, she looks around the little bathroom, but there’s not a lot of space to look at besides his firm chest at her nose. A dust of pink crosses her cheeks and she feels properly conflicted.

Ben decides to make a sales pitch. 

“You — I could fuck you here, have you scream without any neighbours knowing.” It's embarrassing how amiable she becomes when he is like this. He turns her around with little effort. “I can do it without bumping my head into a lightbulb.”

The mirror stares back at her. But it doesn’t feel like it's judging. 

Her face is bright pink. 

“And if you aren’t convinced by that,” he seduces the words into her neck, kissing and nipping at the fragile winter pale skin. “I’ll agree to let you put up the ugly Christmas decoration from last year.”

She sputters, bordering on a chuckle “Hey! I put a lot of work into that.”

A hum, he presses himself into her back. She can feel his excitement, hard and insisting. “And that’s why it deserves to hang in  _ our _ house.”

The affirmation makes her lonely scavenger squeal with delight. 

She can’t tell who’s blindly obeying, the Rey yearning for connection, to not lose him or the Rey who is actually happy he cares, that he wants to nurse her, build a nest with her.

He nudges her legs apart with his foot.

“I’ll make you pancakes.”

Leaning forward over the counter, trying to ignore her reflection in the mirror, she rests on her elbows on either side of the sink. Arching her back.

“I like your pancakes,” Rey pants.

It should be cringey, how willing she is. 

But it's not, because her body squeals when he delicately traces the skin of her inner thigh, far too slowly working his way up to the fabric of her damp underwear.

“I know.”

His voice is low against her back and he slides a free hand slides around her chest to grasp at her chin and tilts her head up so she is facing herself in the mirror. 

Ruined, she looks ruined already.

His other hand tugs the fabric of her panties aside, sliding down her soaking cunt. She inhales sharply, as he angles his hand, and then she surrenders a moan, happy to be wearing a dress today.

“We could do this every day.” He almost growls, pushing her down to grind his crotch against her ass. “I’d make you come every day.”

If she weren’t so completely lost in the way he’s working her, Rey is sure she’d drool into the sink from the way the tingle rolls over her body in waves.

Still — “Everyday?” She asks jokingly.

He doesn’t hear her, too busy undoing his belt to free his cock. She sees it from her vantage point at the mirror, his dark hair falling like a curtain over his face. Looking very much like himself, just more disheveled and pink. 

He nudges his cock playfully at the cheek of her ass, his free hand eagerly springs to action, playing with her clit as he grunts hot air into her brown hair.

“I want us to be together,” Rey whines at his words, moving her hips in a desperate attempt for more, for relief. “Forever.”

“Ben.”

It’s all she needs to say, he reads her like an open book and obliges her. He presses the tip inside her, before whispering in her ear. “Everyday.” He keeps pushing in, openly relishing in the way she feels. He croaks “Live with me, everyday.”

It comes out as a laugh, even if she doesn’t intend it to. “Okay.”

Ben beams with pride as he seats himself, already sweating. 

The strangeness that is them, this attachment that Rey has always thought happened between soulmates flare at their open defiance of destiny. Like an open fire softly roasting, they fall into their rhythm. He hums contentedly as he thrust into her at a steady pace.

It's hard to think about all the things that had bothered her the past week, his interview with Snoke, the house, the way he had included her in none of it. Because he wants her, he wants her — wants her, wants her, wants her.

Like no one else does.

The counter moves in harmony with every drag of his cock, her knees bumping against the wooden cabinet door, while her stomach tightens up, his clever hand and mouth coaxing her on. It’s the best kind of friction.

“Rey —” He groans, voice breaking a little “ — you feel so good.”

A nod, that’s all she can do as they move furiously, her stretched around his cock and him surrendering to her. It’s so fucking intense. 

He fucks her brutally, and he’s right. She could scream here and no one would complain. She could moan and groan and it’ll only be between them. 

The thread snaps far too fast, the pent up frustration combined with a week apart pushing them both over the edge quicker than anyone intended. She gushes over him, and he pushes his fingers in her mouth. It’s obscene and so amazing.

So very them. 

It takes a moment, for their breathing to calm, for the sweat to cool and their minds to sober. 

They kiss over her shoulder, as they both dress, lazily and very much like two people in love. Like two people who are gonna make their mark on this house, on this street.

It feels normal.

The endorphins of their trust help, the anxiety that has lived in the first layer of her skin has burst, leaving her only sated with eyes shaped like hearts. 

Still. As they drive to a deli, laughing and planning, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of her mind. A small voice trying to remind her of something. 

But she ignores it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll fight it out in the comments. Bring weapons. 
> 
> Team Ben or Team Rey?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated 6/10 on the angst scale. But as Aqua put it, it's more hurt than angst really.
> 
> TRIGGERWARNINGS: mentions of death and mentions of violence and brief drug usage, and platonic finn/rey kiss
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 13

2021

  
  


It is a universally known truth, that Rey has never gone through a break up before. 

Sure, she had had a brief moment of teenage attachment, but those were never this clean-cut, they just fizzled out and onto the next thing. Nothing had ever hurt before. They had just stopped.

So, it can be concluded, that the only point of reference she has ever had was second-hand from movies, books, tv-shows and girls sobbing in the toilets at her high school. And in most ways, they turn out to have held some truth. The overpowering sadness, the wanting to eat your feelings, and then days of empowerment and joy. 

But that’s where the similarities stop. Because to Rey’s own disappointment, grieving a relationship turns out to be anything but linear. No. It's a web of entangled emotions and like Schrodinger's cat they all exist at once, but also not - switching in and out of reality at a whim.

And just when she thinks she is about to get better, shit like _ that phone call  _ happens.

That stupid phone call — she would have been better off never calling him. Hear him voice his want, but reject her advances. This one-sided thrust, where she gave and he took. 

This is the moment Rey learns something new about breakups.

The rage period.

It comes so fast, Finn has only just sat down to embrace her in her bed, her phone screen is still on, but the call is no longer when all the confusing thoughts are pushed aside, making way for unbridled all-consuming anger. Directed at everything and nothing. 

Spite, as it turns out, is a very powerful state of being.

She becomes productive. There’s no way he’s gonna get the pleasure of seeing her hung up on him, lie in her bed and sob to climaxes of romantic movies. 

No. She’s more than that. 

Suddenly running every day is no chore, in fact, she pushes herself to the brink of tears from how her legs cramp at night. Her room is no longer a mess and there’s no longer any doubt that she wants to study and before she knows it there’s a spreadsheet on her computer with piles of potential colleges. 

And in those hours she isn't working herself to exhaustion, she volunteers at a local shelter, walking the dogs and feeding them. 

It feels great, amazing to not be handicapped by her emotions. To see that she can achieve things and actually sleep all night from exhaustion.

Ben never calls.

Not that it matters. 

She’s doing so much better without him.

So. Much. Better.

May becomes June. 

  
  


****

  
  


And Poe gets tickets to a concert.

  
  


****

  
  


It's loud. So goddamn loud. 

The lights blind her, the red, white and purple, flashing in tune to the music, spanning over the crowd jumping and dancing in ecstasy. Drunks and highs mingling, grinning, laughing, singing along to a song Rey doesn’t know the lyrics to.

It smells too. Of sweat, beer and she’s pretty sure someone farted somewhere. 

_ It’s fun.  _

Poe maneuvers through the crowd with the skills of a waiter at a beer festival, clutching four plastic cups like they are his most precious baby. It’s been a while since she’s been out like this and it feels great to slowly have her veins buzz, while that heavy nice numbness settles in her chest. She’s forgotten how much she liked doing this. 

Having fun. 

With that said, it had taken some convincing to get her to go, chains of text messages ranging from begging to bribing, and a forced entry on the night of the concert to dress her up. 

She's glad though, that they had made her go. The music moves her body in a way running can't. The endorphins flood her, making her silly and hopeful. 

Ben never wanted to dance at concerts, he preferred to listen to the music. The only one still in a crowd of thousands. But they had fun, in a way only they could. 

Rose chugs her beer like the champion of a drinking contest, while Finn takes Rey's hand and barely manages to twirl her around in a clumsy dance among thousands of fellow concertgoers. It's hot out, even with the sun having gone down and she feels nice. In her simple top and shorts.

A guy next to her smiles at her dancing, moving along to the music not very gracefully. He's tall, not as tall as  _ him,  _ and handsome in that generic way guys like him are.

Happy and dazed, feeling loved and cherished, Rey returns his smile, all bright teeth and laughter. He raises his cup in a cheer, she mimics his greeting.

“Hey, everyone,  _ smile _ !” Poe yells over the crowd and raises his phone, dragging Rey back and snapping a photo of them all. Her cheeks hurt with how hard she smiles, clutching Finn's arm. 

They inspect the photo, debating whether or not to take a new one because Rose's eyes are closed. 

"I can just crop you out?" Poe suggests, probably not kidding. 

"Don't you dare cut me out you - -" the little woman yelps, trying to reach the phone but to little avail. 

It's good, things are good. If Rey tells herself that enough it's probably true. Or if she drinks enough it becomes reality, even for a moment. 

There’s music, people she loves, and the cheer of it all just makes her --

A sudden cold wetness slushes down her back, drenching her shirt with something sticky and sweet, followed by a big body slamming into hers. 

"Hey!" Rey spits, pressing herself into her friends to get out of the drunk's trajectory. "Watch where you're going!" 

The generic handsome guy slurs, grinning at her. "Sorry about that." Rey takes a step back, shaking her shirt "— I lost your attention there for a bit."

Rey frowns at the guy and his dumb band t-shirt. They are still fighting behind her, oblivious to the development. 

For better or for worse. 

" _ You _ don't have  _ my _ attention. You spilled your stupid drink on me —" 

"What's your name? I'm Jake." 

Rey shakes her head and looks away, ignoring the way he obviously stares at her. Finn yells something, to which Rose laughs. 

"Hey, I'm sorry about the beer okay, no need to be a - - " 

“I’m not interested.”

“Chill, girl — it was a fucking accident.” He clamps a hand on her shoulder, intending to keep her in place.

And maybe, had it been any other day or any other time in her life, she would’ve let him. All those years of domestic harmony had helped settle her temper...somewhat. Curbed her instinct to fight with her fist instead of words. 

But there is no domesticity here and all rational minds are clouded by hazy fog called  _ beer _ . 

She shoves him. 

He stumbles back, "What the fuck!" 

"I said, I’m not interested!" the little scavenger spits, "you cunt!" 

Even with the deafening music easily masking their voices a few heads turn at the ruscous of her charging at her assailant. He sputters, visibly confused and in the embrace of his friends who all stare at the red-faced little gremlin. 

"I said I’m sorry!" 

Rey raises her chin to stare him down, despite her only reaching his nose. Her cheeks flushing with more than just alcohol. The guy responds with a grimace, confused and completely taken aback - probably not used to an orphan gremlin from Jakku. 

“Sorry doesn’t —”

A hand digs into Rey’s forearm, nails and all, and drags her back. “Rey. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“What?”

“We are going to the bathroom.” The tiny woman announces already pulling Rey through the crowd towards the back. Snaking their way through piles of sweating bodies to the queue stretching so far back that it turns a corner.

“He spilled a drink on me.” Rey tries to argue, showing her friend the evidence staining her shirt.

“I know, Rey.” Rose peaks around the woman in front of them, probably calculating the time frame for when they can release their bladders. “But if you kicked him we would’ve been thrown out - maybe you’d even be thrown in jail for the night.”

“I would have gotten away with it.”

“You’re piss drunk.”

“Am not.”

A woman is crying down the hall, streaks of tear induced mascara marking her face.

They stand in silence for a while, Rey openly grumbling about her shirt, and Rose crossing her arms, looking contemplative in a way that the scavenger doesn’t like.

“Fucking creep.”

“ _ Rose _ .”

“What?” The queue moves around the corner, she can see the door now. “He spilled his drink on your shirt to get your attention -- doesn’t matter how cute he is, that’s just creepy.”

“ _ All because I smiled at him _ .”

“Men are terrible —” Rose rubs her shoulder, her red lipstick smudged and fading. “— and you deserve better than terrible.”

“What?”

“Have you -- it’s been sometime now, so — maybe —” Someone attempts to sneak into the men’s room, only to have a guy yell at her. “— I guess I just… I want to tell you that it’s okay to move on. If you meet someone.”

It’s okay to move on. She knows that. That’s all she’s been trying to do for the past few insufferable months — and, it’s...some of it is happening. Slowly, steadily — but dating? To start dating again. 

The mere thought of it is enough to make her sick. All that work to get to know someone, the vulnerability, opening up and inviting someone in. To have them see all the nasty shit inside you and all you can do is wait on their judgment — whether or not they like it. If you are good enough.

“I don’t know, Rose.”

And none of them would be Ben. Her sweet brooding Ben, who loved her for all her faults, except the one she had no control of. No one could compare.

No, there’s no way, she can’t. She’d rather be alone and a spinster, suffocating in her own loneliness than try dating again.

If she’s on her own, no one can leave her.

  
  


****

  
  


“You know, Rey. Your soulmate sucks at drinking.”

Her feet are aching, her thighs too. And there’s a pounding in her head. Poe nods at Rose and Finn who are both doing a shitty job at puking in the bushes on the other side of the parking lot. 

Rey shrugs, rubbing the spot between her eyes where it's starting to hurt. 

A flicker of a lighter, followed by the sweet smoke of a blunt. She cracks an eye open to see Poe offering it to her. She hesitates for a moment, before accepting his meager peace offering and takes a drag. 

“How are you doing, Rey?”

Smoking up had never really been her thing, but it eases the headache a bit, tickling her toes. She exhales the smoke, and hands it back to him. 

“Good.  _ Great _ .” 

Her ex-coworker scoffs. “You didn’t sell that very well.”

“I am good. I work out, I’ve gotten far with my applications and —”

“Sure. That’s just a part of it.” He pauses, inhaling the smoke, before blowing it out through his nose. “If you wanna talk. You can talk to me.”

Rey scrunches her nose at his offer. “Thank you Poe, but it's really hard to explain to people who don’t have a soulmate.” A sigh. “They all expect me to be happy, for Ben to be happy, but it's just really shitty. And  _ how can you possibly still love Ben when you have a soulmate _ ? People don’t understand that.”

He takes another drag, not really looking at her, but more at Finn and Rose, who takes turns holding the other’s hair as they desecrate the bush. 

“I had a soulmate.”

Gawking, disbelief, those must be the words describing the look on her face as she spins to him, ignoring how he is offering the blunt back to her.

“ _ What? _ ”

He waves it, forcing her to take it and smoke it, before giving her a confirming nod.

“I sparked when I was two with some kid in the neighborhood.” He rubs his unshaven chin, as if struggling to explain. “I don’t really remember it. I have pictures though.”

“Poe — I — You never told me?”

He waves a dismissive hand, “It’s in the past. And like I said, I don’t remember a lot of it.”

“Wait — in the past, what do you — what happened?”

A sad smile, that’s all there needs to be said about it. “I think I was around six when it happened? My mom remembers better than me. But as you said — I didn’t want to be known as the guy with a dead soulmate. To be the subject of everyone’s pity — I wanted to be Poe.”

With groan, he digs out his leather wallet from his pocket and opens it to show her a faded picture of a toothy kid with bright orange hair and freckles. There’s a fondness there, something Rey has never noticed in him before.

“His name was Bertram Button, but we just called him Beebee. Mostly because of how much resembles those baby angels in old paintings. All curly-haired and chubby. “

“He … looks really nice.”

“I like to think so too, but again — I was so young. I don’t think I even understood what happened when it happened.”

Rey blows the smoke, pretending that’s the reason why her eyes prickle.

“I...I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

Poe puts a hand on his chest. “Pretty much what you’d expect. There’s a hole here. Something terrible that’s missing.” And then he leans over, snatching the blunt from her “— but that’s not the most tragic thing.”

She blinks, “it's not?”

There’s a grin on his face, something cruel and honest. “The most terrible thing is, I know what it’s like. Having a soulmate. But life doesn’t stop just because it happens, and really, why should it? If we were only meant to be with our soulmate, we’d just live in pairs —  _ but we don’t. _ ”

Like a narrator on the Discovery channel, Poe, blunt between his fingers, gestures across the crowds leaving the concert. “We need more than just that. We need more than one, we need other people, different kinds of love, different ways of existing. If soulmates were the only one thing that could make us happy, then why would one die? That’s Greek tragedy for you.”

Rey stares ahead, his words striking something hard and buried within her. That this whole thing is overrated, overstated.

“The terrible thing is how focused people are on that connection, instead of noticing what they have. What they choose.” Poe taps the side of his nose, winking “I have a theory about soulmates. It’s not about romantic or sexual love. It's about what you lack to grow.”

She furrows her brows, “Explain all the couples then.”

“Who knows? Maybe that’s what they need to grow? Maybe people with different kinds of soulmate relationships hide it? The whole romanticization of soulmates, somehow miss the point. I know from studies that sibling soulmates are the most common. But where are they now?” Poe draws another drag, his eyes glazing over. “You and Finn sure don't fit the archetype.”

“Maybe that’s what they lack? Maybe people who are different kinds of soulmates tend to hide it? I know from studies that sibling soulmates were pretty common in the old times.”

“Finn likes men.” Rey begins, Poe smiles a secret smile. “And, he’s nice, friendly. but I just don’t feel  _ that _ .” 

“Maybe you never needed a romantic attachment to grow? Maybe you needed someone who loved you and supported you without expecting anything in return?”

“ _ Maybe _ .” Rey answers quietly. Looking over at Finn comforting a sobbing Rose. “Rose thinks I should date again.”

Poe leans back to look behind her, curious “Does she now?”

They are quiet for a moment, but not for lack of things to say, surely, but lacking the words to say them.

“Poe.” She sighs. “Were...Ben and I? Were we bad for each other? Did we have a shitty relationship?”

A snort, “Rey. Everyone is bad for each other. Sure, you developed some pretty shitty codependency things, but no — you weren’t bad for each other.”

"Sounds like a bad relationship to me."

"What? No. You fucking adored each other. Were you messy people who do messy things? Yeah. But the love was real Rey." He taps his knuckles against the top of her head. "Don't let this whole soulmate society thing gaslight you into remembering only the shitty stuff."

“But there was shitty stuff.” That no one can gaslight her into  _ not _ believing, “He bought a house without ever asking me — and I —”

Poe raises his hands, “Rey. Sweetheart. If there is one thing I’ve learned in life, is that we are human. Don’t forget that. Relationships are what we grow them to be - - and how we overcome how shitty we are. Or how we deal with our partner being shitty —" 

“But we didn’t overcome it!” She kicks a rock with her foot. “He left and I’m stuck here, suspended in motion, waiting for... _ something _ .” Finn is waving at them, shouting something along the lines of  _ ‘i’m getting her some water’, _ “He probably hates me.”

"Maybe? A little? He complains a lot."

“He always complains,” Rey huffs, watching Rose and Finn finally make their way back. “It was actually quite funny how much he had to complain about.”

Poe waits a moment, eyes searching hers for something, anything —

“He still loves you.”

His words sting her heart, mush her soul. She can’t….she can’t go back there, to hope to —

“For someone who supposedly still loves me, he’s trying valiantly not to actually love me.”

He shuts his mouth at that, but not without observing her with a careful look.

And that’s all there is to say about that.

  
  


****

They drop off Rose at her apartment and all circle back to her and Poe’s building in an Uber, deciding that Finn lives too far away and besides, wouldn’t it be nice to sleep over?

Poe groans as they deposit Rey on her bed. “Did you gain weight or something?” 

“No!” She giggles, pulling her soulmate by the arm and into her bed. 

“Your bed is too small for you both to fit in. You can’t sleep here.” He tugs at Finn’s arm. “You can sleep on my couch.”

Rey clutches Finn to her, pouting. “No! My soulmate, you can’t have him.”

Surprisingly mature, her neighbor simply shakes his head in disbelief, before handing Finn a key.

“When you get tired of getting kicked to the floor, you know where to find me.”

They yell at him as he leaves, feeling nothing better than children spurred on by excitement. Which is probably why the door slams a bit harder than necessary.

Rey laughs, snuggling into the warm skin of her soulmate. The one who she feels she knows so instinctually, but then also not. Finn giggles along with her, lying down so they are face to face in her tiny bed. 

“That was so much fun.”

“It really was. We should do it again soon!”

Finn puts his hand on her cheeks, puffing them, “You are gonna be so hungover tomorrow.”

“You more!”

“No. I already puked!”

It is inevitable, written in the stars, still, it surprises her that she tilts her head so she can press her lips to his. They are soft and warm, and the connection between them flare pleasantly or maybe it’s the alcohol. Finn hesitates a moment, before kissing her back, him too relishing in the rightness that is them.

It's a nice kiss, truly. But — it just — it's almost like a hug. 

No surging feelings within her, no desperate need to make this more than it is. A kiss. Nothing like it ever was with Ben. She’s not sure that’s better or worse.

It lasts a few wonderful moments, before they both pull back, giggling together.

They did that.

“Did I taste like puke?”

“Yes. It was horrible. And you kiss horribly.”

Finn shoves her playfully, laughing “Hey!” before growing slightly serious. “Did you feel anything?”

Rey shakes her head, confident about something for once.

“Good.” Her soulmate pauses, wetting his lips, averting his gaze from hers. “Poe kissed me.”

“Wait. When?”

For a moment, her brain appears fried, burned to a crisp at the newfound knowledge that Finn — Poe?

A redness blooms on his cheeks, followed by a shy smile. “When you and Rose went to the bathroom.”

The disappointed groan that escapes her sounds positively feral, and her words muffled through her hands that cover her face. 

“I can’t believe Poe got to kiss you before I did.” 

“Hey, your fiance kissed you before I did.”

“EX-fiance.”

A laugh, “My bad.” 

Shaking her head, Rey tugs herself under Finn’s chin, burrowing herself into the safety that is him. Enjoying that she has him, that they have each other.

She can’t possibly imagine being without him. And she knows he must feel the same. Poe’s story, his tragedy, fester under her skin — and it's a hard truth to be told. No matter their connection, one of them will be without the other one day. 

And that they cannot be each other’s only connection. 

“Rey.” She can feel his throat bob as he swallows. “Come to San Diego with me. We could rent something together — get that pet roomba we can dress up.”

“I —” Her eyes fall on the ring she still hasn't removed, locked onto her finger until...until what really? 

He must know the direction of her thoughts because he blocks her view with an embrace, and whispers, “Rey. You can’t wait for him to change his mind — just like he can’t expect yours  _ not  _ to change.”

A sigh, “I know.”

“I know how good you are at waiting - like real good — but, if you want to come with me, you should. If you don’t, then you shouldn’t” He presses a kiss on the top of her hair. 

“What if it is a mistake?”

She can feel it, his sad smile “We can make mistakes, even big ones” — followed by a burst of dumb laughter — “I’m pretty sure me slipping downstairs into Poe’s bed in five minutes is a mistake.”

“ _ Really _ ? Doesn’t sound like a mistake to me.” It makes him snort, her acceptance. 

“Even our worst enemies are worth more than just waiting for things to happen.” Finn tells her as he pecks her cheeks goodnight, before tumbling up the stairs to Poe’s apartment.

To her own surprise, there’s no jealousy over her friend and her soulmate's new connection, but there’s a small sadness that she has to let him go and not force him to stay and sleep next to her. Still, he wishes her goodnight with a kiss on her cheek and a hug. 

There is no one in the room, but her and the blueish darkness mixed with city lights. 

She should sleep.

She really should.

Before she makes a mistake.

She unlocks her phone to look at the photo Poe has uploaded to his Instagram. 

Ben has liked it.

He has liked it.

The information that he so openly supports their friendship, the fact that he knows Rey and Poe meet, and he’s okay with it crash into her like a wave of horrible emotions, of what ifs.

She imagines it easily, texting him, taunting him about the guy at the concert, listening to his misery, to let him feel what she feels. And then they’d fight, they were bound to. 

But if neither hung up, something profound would change between them, for better or for worse.

Maybe she could convince him to whisper her goodnight, like he always did. Wish her good dreams.

Or maybe not.

It would probably be a disaster.

Everyone seems to think so at least, Rose, Poe and Finn all have different pressing opinions about what she should do -- even if she doesn’t wanna do any of them -- that her and Ben obviously are better without each other.

That they were bad for each other.

That no happiness can come from pursuing their past connection, its over, finito, done. 

It’s 3 am. She’s drunk.

And she picks up a scissor and marches into the bathroom.

  
  


****

Finniboo  
LOOK WHAT SHE HAS DONE  
  
[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/779084075528618015/1aqdhpd9gvx41.jpg)  
DAMNaron  
HAHAHAHA  
Rose  
Stop laughing it looks great on her!  
DAMNaron  
Break up hair!  
  
:-/  
  


  
  


****

2018

The TV is on by the time she stumbles across the threshold to their home, awkwardly pulling off her boots, and rubbing her cold nose, sniffling. 

There had been a Friday bar at work today, and unlike the other times, she didn’t manage to sneak out before Poe had deposited a row of shots before her, proudly announcing that  _ “You are 21 now! I know the law.”  _ Rose had laughed and eagerly participated. 

It was her friend’s last day at work. And she wanted to say goodbye. Wanted to wish her good luck, even if it hurt.

But then she had gotten drunk, sobbed into the shorter woman’s dress, before Leia had shaken her head and put her in an Uber. Pressing a kiss on her cheek and asking her,  _ “Say hi to Ben for me.” _

“Rey?” her dear boyfriend calls from inside the living room. She can hear him shuffle, probably concerned, when she pokes her head inside. Giddy and happy.

“Hi!”

He raises an eyebrow, but remains seated, an amused tug of his lips all she needs to know that he isn’t mad. No, he’s happy to see her. 

With all the seductiveness she can muster, Rey walks across the floor to her widest man who sits with all the prowess of a lion on the couch, just silently watching her approach. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” Rey asks, kneeing the couch and pulling his sweet mouth in a kiss. 

Ben chuckles against her lips, “Poe took out the shots, didn’t he?”

She hums, happy to see him, to feel his soft black hair and stubbles on his cheeks. And that’s all it takes for her to flop down on the couch, half her body on the cushions, the other draped over his legs. 

“You smell nice and warm.” Rey croons with a stretch, curling herself into his sweat and exposing her stomach. He gives her a tender smile, a hand already brushing stray tendrils out of her face.

“What is this magic? My girlfriend goes to work as a human, and now she is a little kitten.”

“ _ No _ .” Rey pouts with mock hurt. “I’m a  _ big _ cat.”

He laughs, the TV playing on behind them, some kind of documentary with soft words and perfectly shot frames. Yet, he only has eyes for her. 

“I thought you wouldn’t be home until late at night — did Poe let you go?”

She picks on a loose thread on his sweater. “I missed you, wanted to see you.”

“I missed you, too.”

A hum, she closes her eyes at the comfortable feeling of him untangling her the bun on top of her head, soothing and gentle her giant is. “What did you eat for dinner?”

“Cereal.”

“ _ Ben _ .”

“I got home late, didn’t wanna order, didn’t wanna cook. Cereal is fine.”

She nuzzles at his stomach. “You work too much.”

“You think so?” A hand rubs her belly, right below her ribs like he’s petting an animal. “I’m a very irresponsible  _ big _ cat owner.”

A laugh bursts forward, helped along by the fading fizziness of the drinks and the warmth of his lap. “I thought you were a dog person?”

“I am.” He chuckles, tugging her closer. The documentary is replaced by commercials, blasting bright whites and blues into their shared living room. The one where she had salvaged an old weird painting that Ben absolutely hates, but grumbling let her have. He decided the house, she decided the interior. “But somehow I have acquired a little orphan cat.”

“Are you gonna replace me with a dog soon? Throw me out?”

“Very tempting, but I’m afraid I’m  _ far too busy _ for a dog these days.” He quietly muses, pulling her brown hair from the elastic band so it drapes over the fabric of his pants “— It's a lot of work. My parents always got in a fight over who had to walk it.”

She blinks “You’ve had a dog?”

“When I was a kid, we had a dog.” A nod, he smoothes the tendrils away from her face “He was called something really weird? Something with C and then...three? They’d had that dog for ages and I’m not sure anyone knew how old it was.” His chuckle shakes her lightly, which makes her nuzzle into his shirt, smiling, enjoying one of the rare stories he chooses to share. “If you ask me though, my theory is that whenever it died they replaced it with a similarly looking dog and just named it that same. Until I grew older and they stop bothering.” 

“What did it look like?”

“It had shiny golden fur, you could almost see your reflection in it — and it just...yapped all day. Barked and talked. It probably thought its name was ‘shut up’ or something.”

She takes the hand stroking her hair and guides it to her lips. He lets her kiss the scar there, in the center of his palm. 

“Is that from the dog?”

Ben shakes his head.

The TV cuts to some reality show with a catching loud tune, an audience claps. Rey lies in her boyfriend’s lap and feels happy, thinking about dogs and why he has that scar. Is it from that story with his uncle? The one he hasn’t really shared except in brief glimpses of truth here and there, but nothing she can use to piece the story together.

“If I had a dog — I’d probably call it something stupid like…’Donut’.”

Ben scoffs jokingly, petting her stomach, and leans awkwardly over her body to kiss it. He blows raspberries against the sensitive flesh. “You and  _ food _ . A love story for the ages.”

“What would  _ you  _ call it? Something pretentious and fancy no doubt,” Rey protests with a laugh. 

It’s not common to see him blush, but there’s an unmistakable dust of pink coating his ears poking out from underneath his black mane.

“Silencer.”

“ _ Silencer? _ ”

He averts his gaze, pretending to notice something in the ceiling “What? It’s a cool fighter-jet, and an even cooler —”

A pillow hits him in the face, followed by the glorious laughter of his girlfriend dying of laughter from below him. It’s a gentle evening, slowly fading into night and their house is safe and warm and they have each other. Even with all the rocky paths they sometimes have to walk down, the essential understanding always remains. The careful touches and small shy kisses.

How can a soulmate ever replace this?

  
  


****

  
  


They celebrate Ben’s birthday by going for a run. 

It’s been one of the things they started doing this spring, a consequence of a brief interest she had one afternoon in the kitchen, where she had leaned over the counter with a flyer for the local half-marathon.

With an eyebrow raised, Ben had taken one long hard look at it, before sighing. “Guess I need to quit smoking then.”

And that is the peculiar thing when it comes to relationships. She’s not sure exactly what she had imagined it would be? A part of her knew that it couldn’t last, that period of intensity in the beginning. Of sneaking into alleys, closets or hidden rooms to make out...among things. Still, this… peaceful cohabitation they existed in now, that — had been nothing like she imagined. 

The love is there of course, especially the passion, yet the intensity and urgency of it all has dimmed, leaving way for a more subdued, but ultimately close companionship. In all honesty, most of what they do is just existing near one another, talking and laughing. 

Heck, one night they had watched an action movie on the TV, her on the floor, while Ben braided and unbraided her hair into various fashions. 

_ “My mother taught me.” _ He would tell her,  _ “I suspect she wanted a girl — but then again, she never really cared about gender.” _

There is no one she’d rather spend time with than Ben.

So they run together.

A habit that started out torturous, but now became a bi-weekly event. They didn’t even have to plan it, they would come home from work, change into their running gear and speed off into the night. 

In a way, it made perfect sense for them to run. They are both competitive to a fault, and while his legs gave him an advantage, Rey is faster and lighter. Chasing him, overtaking him. It was exhilarating. 

And whenever she did win, the look he would give her, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead and face flushed from exertion, was not that of a sore loser — surprise for sure, but pride too, and a hunger. 

Getting to know him, turned out to be a fascinating adventure — he loved when she beat him, when she was better than him. Assertive and powerful. 

“You want me to  _ step  _ on you?” Rey had joked when he all but attacked her in the house, smothering her with kisses and he, with all the seriousness he could muster, had gasped “Punish me, Miss Niima.”

So yeah. Running was their thing now. And today was no different, even if it was Ben’s birthday.

“You are supposed to be hungover!” Ben huffs from next to her. It’s autumn and while it isn’t freezing yet, the air has already begun to prickle at her throat when she runs. 

“Well, you’re a year older now.” Rey shouts back, trying her best to ignore the way her head pounds. He won’t get the pleasure of seeing her struggle. She will beat him. She’s young and he’s “— not my fault you are old and decaying.”

An offended huff is all she gets in reply. Their feet are toe to toe, their usual finish line coming into sight, the gate at the graveyard. She can make it, she knows.

And then he  _ sprints. _

“Hey!” The little scavenger shouts, trying her best to catch up, but he got too much of a head start. 

It’s infuriating! 

Like the smug asshole he is, Ben turns to taunt her, but just then she jumps up his back. “You cheated!” 

He wobbles for a second, before like the gentleman he is he lifts her up by her thighs, unbothered by her weight. “I did not lose. I won, fair and square.”

“The race was rigged!”

“Rigged how? I just ran faster.”

She hoists herself up on his back, nipping at his frostbitten ears, the one she loves, the ones he hates, while he leisurely carries her around. “You distracted me.”

“Rey, you could just pretend you let me win because it's my birthday.”

A squirm goes through him when she licks the spot at his neck, she can feel his back muscles tighten. “Never.”

“Little gremlin. Are you gonna steal my presents too?”

“And your food.”

He laughs, carrying her with such ease. It makes her silly in a dumb way, feeling his strength. With a sigh she buries her nose into his neck, where the polyester fabric begins. His shirt is drenched, clammy and beginning to smell of sweat. 

“You smell horrible.”

“Thank you. You are very generous with your compliments today.”

There's grey hair poking out from the curl on his neck. She kisses it. 

He stops.

Afraid she has crossed some invisible line, she peaks up from her spot on his broad back, opening her mouth to understand what’s wrong. 

Ah.

Han’s grave.

Despite never having gone and missing the day they placed the urn (too busy at the office), she knows that Leia had chosen to bury him close to home. He was a wandering spirit anyway, no firm attachment to anywhere, except his family.

Carefully, Rey asks, “Do you want to say hi?”

Ben almost jumps at her voice, eyes focusing on a gate in the distance like he has been spooked by something. 

A little panicky, afraid to have offended him, “You don’t have to go.”

He swallows. Looking unsettled in a way she has never seen. They talked so rarely about his father, that it had become a tense subject between them. Too vulnerable a spot in their hearts for two very different reasons.

Yet, in a small unsure voice, he exhales.

“I’ll go.” 

He slides her down, gaze unwavering on his father’s final resting place, even as she takes his hand and tugs him to the stone.

It’s a simple thing, still it doesn’t seem very Han. Personally, Rey had always assumed Han would be informal about it — would probably wish for a burial at sea or together with his car. Or maybe he was more like “This spot isn’t for me, it’s for the people who are left,” and decided to just have his wife — or ex-wife — depending on the day — decide the spot for her grieve.

Who is to say though, he never mentioned death to her and at least of all his final wishes. He was always more of a one day at a time kind of fellow. She liked that about him. 

Ben’s hand twists, he’s nervous.

“Have you gone?” She asks, attempting to break the silence. He shakes his head. 

There’s a little daisy growing in the grass, resilient against the turning of the seasons. She picks it. 

“Did you go? The day they buried him.”

A sharp inhale. “No.” Ben looks away, smoothing a hand over his mouth and jaw, shame practically rolling off him.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if it’d feel better if there was a grave...for my parents.” Rey places the tiny flower on the plague, and sighs. “Or if I’d believe they are alive, but if they are alive,” She turns to him over her shoulder. “Then why haven’t they come back for me?”

Ben’s mouth twists into a sad smile, brushing a hand over her shoulder, to draw her close. The sweat is cooling on his chest, she feels it intensely as he crouches over her. This is probably not how he imagined this birthday to go. 

“I couldn’t tell you either. It’s weird when they are gone.” It's a small confession, whispered secretly into her ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever fully realised he won’t be back. I just always assumed he would — live forever.” 

Rey rubs her head against his jaw, trying to soothe both their aches. Their trauma.

“And then — like — I stand here. And it’s just a patch of dirt. Whatever my father was —” He laughs, “— it's just...it’s not here.”

There’s something unsaid in his words, something that is threatening to break him, tear him to pieces. But Rey is never able to ask, because as soon as he says it, he guides them around by her shoulder and leads them out of the cemetery.

And despite him joking about deserving a birthday blow job, the crinkle in his eyes isn’t selling it.

  
  


****

  
  


It’s slowly getting dark by the time they make it back to the house.

He’s strangely quiet, even as they walk hand in hand upstairs to their bedroom to shower. With almost mechanical motions he pulls his shirt over his head by the neck and steps into the bathroom in almost a daze.

Something is wrong. That much is sure, but it doesn’t just seem to be the general sadness he inhibits whenever the topic veers to his father. He has never been shy or reluctant to talk about him, should the occasion arise, but it’s never with this... _ silence _ . 

The door to the blue-tiled shower is slightly ajar, enough for her to see the sulking crouch of his bare back, muscles straining as he tests the temperature of the stream. It’s beginning to fog, shading his form.

And it’s his birthday.

She throws off her socks, leggings, and shirt, depositing them on the floor instead of the laundry basket (which Ben hates), but the need to soothe, to cure what ails him is more important than fighting about cleaning habits. 

Uncharacteristically absorbed in his thoughts, Ben hardly notices her as she opens the glass door to join him in their tiny shower. Tiny enough that he can’t turn around easily — or not without bumping into things. 

“Rey?”

A shush, followed by a kiss on his shoulder blade as she throws her arms around him, clutching him tight against her chest.

He exhales, cupping her interwoven fingers resting against his stomach.

They stand silently for several moments, letting the water warm them up from their cold run outside. All the while she presses loving and tender kisses along his spine. 

He sighs, letting her love him secretly in their shower. 

And she does. She shows him by kissing every beauty mark, by turning him around so she can wash him, lather the shampoo into his hair, and massaging his curls. He returns the favor, looking possibly close to tears as he rinses the sweet perfumey shampoo from her locks. 

It’s a strange moment, uncertain but with desperate intention. He rests his forehead against hers, breath growing increasingly trembling and erratic.

“My uncle tried to kill me.”

Her hands still on his stomach.

“He — There was a time — to seek enlightenment or some shit — where he loved to eat mushrooms. It was weird, but that’s Luke in a nutshell.” Rey places a cheek on his collarbone, palms moving to his back, soaping it, while she quietly hears his repentance. 

“It went as well as you’d expect, and one night I woke up to him standing above me with a knife, poised and ready. He was ranting, half-delirious - I don’t even know what he was saying.” His throat bobs, she can feel it against the top of her head. “I punched him and fled.”

The soap pools at the bottom of their feet, and for a moment it's all quiet in their little home. Which is something to be noted, because Rey’s veins are bumping, hot with fury and resentment. But she remains calm, caressing his wide shoulders. 

She can stay calm for Ben, let him tell her his trauma.

“I tried to call my mom. She was busy, I got a hold of her secretary. And...Han, god, who knows where he was. And mom always took Luke’s side on everything — she probably wouldn’t believe me.”

“ _ Ben. _ ” 

“So I just...went somewhere. Hid in LA and went to school — I met Snoke there. And he recruited me. I was good at it, it felt amazing.”

She tries to turn her face to look at him, but he holds her too tight for her to see anything but the stubble of his chin. 

And then he tells her the hardest part.

“I got used to that life. Was I happy? Probably not. And — out of fucking nowhere — after six years — Han found my number. I don’t know how, but he did. We talked for a long time, about everything, about Luke. I don’t know if he ever told my mother what we talked about.”

Ben pauses, a wetness creeping into his voice, and in the safety of the shower, Rey is sure there are tears merging with the water.. 

“He said he was gonna come get me, take me home. I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.”

They pause, the soap and shampoo long gone.

But Rey knows how the story ends, she whispers it out loud. “Han had a stroke in a car…”

There is no gentle way to describe the way Ben breaks into body-wracking sobs. Of years of knowing, but keeping silent, of grappling with an uncertain truth —

“I killed him.”

Rey pulls away, grabbing his tear-streaked face, desperate. “Ben. No. No. You didn’t.”

“If I hadn’t - if I had been the son -”

“No. Ben. You had a father who loved you. Who gave a damn about you.” She brushes her thumbs across the lids of his eyes. “He always talked about you, he never stopped. And I can’t —” the tears spill down her cheeks too. “He must have been so happy that you let him back in. That you let him come for you.”

“Rey —”

She shushes him. “Don’t.” Trying to smile, “I’m someone who loves you Ben. Like your mother, your father.”

  
  


****

  
  


They never make it to the dinner Leia has invited them too.

They never got to get slightly wasted and tumble into bed together.

Heck, they never really got to the whole birthday blow job.

No, instead they sneak under the covers together, hair wet and just cradle each other. Whispering secrets no one else knows — her churning feelings about her parents, Ben’s regrets, and their shared hesitation.

Later he would confide in her, after the pizza arrived, that this is the best birthday he’s had.

What a beautiful thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I fucked up the Instragram post! I'm dying


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst rate: 😬/10 
> 
> CW: This is THE FIGHT. I'm not sure if I should trigger warn for anything? But please tell me if you find anything. 
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!

# Chapter 14

2021

  
  


****

What tips the scale for San Diego comes two fold. 

First, she gets a message on Facebook from one of the kids that she was fostered with, that Unkar Plutt, their tormentor, had passed away. Rey doesn’t ask how. 

Second, she checks the listing for their house, only to find a neat _sold_ plastered over the pictures, and surprisingly it brings some relief. Even if it is painful to acknowledge that he has permanently removed any chance of her somehow finding her way back into their old life. 

And it makes her question. Why is she even staying here? When there is nothing keeping her _here_ and no monsters to avoid _out there_. 

Staying would be to toture herself, a cage by her own design that traps no one but her. 

“Let’s go.”

“What?” Finn looks up from his spot on her lounge chair, which he had happily claimed as his when they had carried it upstairs. 

It’s July and the glass pane windows she had sworn eternal love to in the winter have now transformed her room into an oven, baking them alive. But what’s the alternative? Go outside? That’s even worse. 

“San Diego. Let’s go.”

Maybe that’s why Finn looks somewhat delirious, sipping his iced coffee — or maybe its the reason she even reaches a conclusion, sweaty and dehrydated on her bed, watching a dumb movie on her overheating laptop.

“You — want to go?”

A shrug. “I could use a fresh start. New hair, new you right?” She stretches her neck to look back at Finn, “if you still want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“Well, there’s Poe?”

It’s a valid question. Whatever he and Poe is very much up in the air. Sure, she had walked in on her soulmate almost getting blown and they now have an unspoken agreement that Rey _knocks_. But except that, they seem very casual in the way they approach each other. Calm and unhurried, no jealousy. 

Still, Poe hadn’t been in the picture, when Finn first pitched San Diego and the West Coast. Perhaps his mind had changed.

Maybe Rey wasn’t enough?

“What about him?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

Finn rests his chin on his elbow, pensive.

“He’s not you.” He concludes after a moment.

“Sure. But… you like him?”

“I do.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, nothing that resembles a shred of doubt. Not about Poe, not about her. “But I’ve wanted to go for a long time. He can come if he wants, but I won’t stop him if he doesn’t.”

“You’d really just...leave like that?”

He gives her a puzzling look, and she’s not sure if it's because he understands — or if he for the first time ...doesn’t. 

“We’ve only seen each other for a month. I mean, sure? Could we be a couple? Absolutely — but also not. It isn’t that serious. I’m not sure we are exclusive, either.” 

“But...won’t you miss him?”

A shrug, he swirls his glass, watching the milk and coffee melt into a sweet brown. “Of course. Maybe we can do long distance for a while? But he’s not keeping me here.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you missed out on something,” she admits, lying down on her arm to gaze up at him. “You matter too much to me.”

“Soulmates go together Rey. If you go, I go.”

Rey smiles, the words settling something awful and poisonous in her stomach, making way for — hope, excitement. 

_Soulmates go together._

  
  


****

  
  


They break the news while eating at Rose’s house. 

And to all of their surprises, Rose is far less enthusiastic than Poe, who simply smiles and pulls both of them into a hug (and Finn into a kiss). Rose mopes and complains for over a week, before she reluctantly admits that it might be the right call. 

She’s sure Poe has told Leia, maybe Ben, but neither make any effort to call her up and demand an answer. Instead her phone is silent and the summer passes by in glorious fashion — looking up houses for rental, applying for winter admission at colleges and wrapping up affairs in the place that she has called home for the past five years.

The plane ticket in her hand read 12th of September, and the moving van will turn up a week before. It’s surreal, possibly stupid.

And there’s no clear cut feeling in her stomach. Instead, it’s a mix of apprehension and excitement. Uncertainty for sure. But also relief.

She packs her meagre belongings into boxes, says goodbye to the apartment that had been a place of reprieve in her months of grief. All while she wonders how to get her few remaining items from her and Ben’s house without having to open the door she has shut between them. 

A part of her knows though, that it's the good thing, right thing, to call him up and tell him. And she has tried to. She even got so far to open her contacts and have her thumb hovering over the call button — to tell him she is going — but then, all the ways he would get upset play out in vivid detail to the point that she decides that she’ll do it tomorrow.

And then several tomorrows pass.

Until an entire _relationship of shit_ hits the fan at Poe’s impromptu farewell-in-three-weeks dinner.

  
  


****

  
  


It had started out innocent enough, they had been told to come downstairs for tacos, only to find Rose, Poe and a few of Finn’s acquaintances gathered in a ...questionably decorated kitchen. 

It’s a mitch match of things, a homemade banner, crudely made, spelling out the words FAREWELL LOSERS. Red plastic cups with colorful balloons as if stolen from a Children’s birthday and she’s pretty sure she can recognize Santa on the napkins.

Doesn’t stop her from tearing up though.

“Don’t worry, Rey.” Poe laughs as he draws her into a hug. “ I’ll come by all the time when I can.”

“I was worried about that.”

He chuckles the words, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Shaking his head, Finn leans between the two of them to give Poe a kiss. 

It’s strange, this triangle of theirs, but maybe it’s that they all have soulmates which make them understand. They understand what Poe will always lack and he will always understand the connection they share. What it is and what it is not. 

She could see it work, them all being connected, but in different ways. What would she be, if they got married? Soulmates - in - law? 

It sounds like a TV pitch for TLC _._ “ _Say yes to someone else’s soulmate.”_

With a spiked punch in hand, they mingle around the room. Rey has met Finn’s friends once, Jannah and — _gosh, she already forgot his name_ — which had been nice enough or at least it makes them familiar enough to make the small talk going somewhat smoothly. 

Rose is showing Finn an article about a photographer they both gush about, and Poe is tasting the punch, deciding it needs more tequila. It is a strange scene, one Rey has never been witness to before.

Everyone loves her soulmate, they have all connected with him in ways she never would have expected — he is not only her divine companion, he’s a shared friend between all of them, both a part and separate from their divine chosenness.

Ben was never that. 

Would he have been friends with Finn though? Had they found a way to overcome it all?

Rey draws a breath — probably not.

Always the impeccable host, Poe rushes back and forth, refilling glasses and checking on the food in the oven. He looks sort of nervous? Doesn’t he? Rey tilts her head, curious to this slight change in demeanor. He checks his phone constantly, typing quick messages and rubs his chin. 

And then she notices —

There are seven plates on the table.

And only six people in the room.

Her heart drops, trepidation fills her veins in an instant. Who is coming? All the people she knows are here, and —

The door buzzes and with an uncharacteristically nervous jump, Poe sprints to the door and presses the button to let the last guest in with a hushed voice.

All appears normal, which shouldn’t make her anxious, until he briefly glances at Rey, gauging her mood, before going back to waiting like a dog at the door. It’s weird, so unlike him, and the cup crunches in Rey’s fist as she tries to get ahead of the situation —

— and just as when she’s about to ask him, who the last guest is, there’s a knock and the door swings open only to reveal —

_Shit._

“Ben!” Poe gleefully exclaims, pulling him into a hug that makes her — _whatever he is_ — crouch so she can’t see his face. 

It feels as if all air has vanished.

Her lungs burn, uncomfortable breathless.

She feels like fainting.

Ben looks up. 

Their eyes meet.

It’s like all sound fades, and she can only hear the thumping of her frantically beating heart, her laboured breath.

When was the last time she saw him?

Six months ago?

His eyes are still brown, the moles remain the same, he looks exactly like she remembers him, except maybe his hair has gotten shorter? Even if a million years have passed, he is unchanging: tall, dark and gentle. Rey tugs at the edges of her own shortened hair, finding herself unable to stop staring, but very much wanting to. 

And he’s staring at her too, like there is no one else in the room, just the two of them and whatever unresolved business they have.

Poe, thank god, senses the tension and quickly breaks the bubble with a “Hi everyone!” and pulls the fridge of a man inside by his shoulders “— This is Ben. A friend of mine and Rey’s.”

It feels wrong to have him introduced as her friend, when he’s nothing but. He remains both the most important person in her life and also the one she wants to see the least. Not just a friend.

A low murmur of _“hi’s”_ passes through the meager crowd, with Finn’s friends luckily oblivious being the only ones who wave. Finn and Rose just look at her, and she looks at Ben, who looks at her. 

She feels ill.

_Why is he here? Did Poe invite him — what —_

As if sensing her distress, Rose marches past her, straight at Ben like a bull spotting a red cape and extends her hand to him, shaking his with borderline violence. Ben just lets her, breaking the enchantment over Rey in favour of giving the short Asian woman who seems to have it in for him a puzzled look. 

It feels like drawing her first breath after nearly drowning. Life affirming and deeply terrifying. 

Taking advantage of the communal distraction, Poe slides past them all and into the kitchen. Guilt positively radiating off him. 

Rey follows him like a hawk. 

“ _You_ did this!”

Poe smiles, stuffing his mouth with a piece of fruit, so he can’t answer, looking mildly amused at her animosity. 

With a hiss, she steps closer, so they are face to face, teeth bared. “ _Tell me the truth_.”

“I thought you deserve a shot at talking before you move across the country and fade away.” The words are barely intelligible through his exaggerated chewing.

“That’s not your place to decide.”

Frowning, her neighbour leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “As if I’d let _you_ decide you are gonna run off and regret at least not saying goodbye.” His gaze grows serious. “Trust me. You want to talk.”

“You know he hates me right? And Finn? There’s no way he wants to talk.”

Poe points into the living room, where Ben stands hunched over Rose, apparently explaining something important with those shy gestures he does. “Explain that.”

“Explain what?”

“He’s still here. If he hated you, he’d be out the door in an instant.” The grape pops between his teeth. “And I know that, because I didn’t tell him you were here.”

He smiles a wicked smile. She wants to punch it off his smug face. 

“Clear the air Rey — you’ll be happy. It’s my parting gift to you.”

“I’m gonna get you for this.” It comes out as a positively feral snarl. 

“Sure, Rey.”

Petulance is probably the best way of describing the way she _stomps_ out the kitchen and back to Finn (avoiding Ben’s trailing eyes). Mouth pouting, bordering childish tantrum. 

“ _Poe_ invited him.” 

Finn grimaces, flicking his head to the subject of their conversation who simply resorts to finger gunning both of them in response. 

“Wow. He is in so much trouble.” With a scoff, Finn hands her his drink and hurries into the kitchen to tell his — _lover_? — off, despite her audible objections. 

And to her own detriment, it turns out there are fewer things more awkward than standing at your own goodbye party, desperately trying to avoid talking to your ex without anyone noticing. How in the world do you even look natural when your head swims with contradicting thoughts — wanting to run and hide, to fight him, or throw herself into his arms and kiss him right there on his stupid mouth. 

There is like a million reasons why this is a bad idea, but Poe, ever the optimist, ignored them all. 

And now she’s here, head buzzing and too lost in her internal panic to notice that the source of her distress has slowly creeped up next to her. 

“Hi.”

The punch spills a little as she jumps, looking at him as if he’s a _ghost_. 

He might as well be.

_Ghost of relationships past._

He tries to smile, but she recognizes the nervous tick under his eyes, the deep swallows.

“Hi.” It comes out softer and breathier than she wants to.

Which turns out to be one of many things she’d rather be without. Like how she can’t ignore the way his chest expands, visibly _trembles_ when she relents and replies. Or how she can’t decide where to look: His face? His hands? The wall?

She’s grateful for the talking and music in the background, it eases the awkward silence between them and makes it...somewhat bearable. But only _just_. 

Should she ask him why he’s here? Why haven’t he left? He had seemed so eager to retaliate and hurt her that time on the phone — and now he’s standing here like a sma— very _tall_ — school boy, all courteous and proper. Waiting for her to make the first move, when all he has ever done is to speed ahead and wait for her to catch up. 

And perhaps it is that sudden change in demeanour, which threatens to produce the smallest of sparks to light a flame of hope, that maybe — just maybe —

“Looks nice.”

Rey blinks, too lost in her thoughts. “What?”

“The hair. It looks nice.”

It is strange to see him without his usual confidence, rubbing the back of his neck, awaiting her reply. Ears burning underneath that dark curly mane of his.

He makes her blush like a damn teenager. 

“Your shirt.” She draws a breath, looking for something to say, anything. “Is it new?”

A chuckle. “No. It’s — _you_ gave it to me.”

Ashamed, Rey takes a moment to actually look at his shirt. It doesn’t really ring a bell, but over the years she had attempted several times to introduce some variety into his wardrobe, have him thank her, only for it to sit in the back, untouched and unappreciated. It is a nice rust color, and the size fits him. Terrible how great it suits him when she can’t even fully show him the extent of her appreciation. 

She attempts a laugh, but it just comes out as awkward. “Well, I’m glad you finally decided to wear it.”

It had not been her intention to hurt him, but there’s some satisfaction in watching a striking, possibly scared, expression cross his face. And they fall into silence again. 

Rey wonders how they got to a place where they can’t even carry on a conversation. They’ve always been good at talking and it's not as if she doesn’t have words to say. She has a million words, entire conversations imagined in the shower, but now that he’s here, tall and so dark haired, she finds that she can’t.

Every single spiteful curse or open yearning is stuck on her tongue. And all she can do is breathe, entranced by the familiarity of his brown eyes and soft mouth. 

Is this a trap? 

“Rey —!” Rose calls, drawing her friend out of the well that is Ben Solo and frantically waves her over. “Help me fold the napkins please?”

With a comedic awkwardness, Rey points to her friend, muttering, “I have to —” to which Ben just _nods_.

Doing her best to calm herself, she turns her back to him, out of sight and _hopefully_ out of mind. Her fingers shake while she folds the napkins. 

Rose leans over, whispering “It’s okay, Rey. It’s just Ben.”

“It’s just Ben.” But for fuck’s sake, he has never been _just_ Ben. He has always been more to her, to her world and her life. There’s no _just_ between them. 

It helps though, distracting herself by using her hands, enough so that when her heart stops racing ahead like the bus in Speed, she is actually able to look at him.

He’s talking to Jannah, politely listening to her tell a story. Rey doesn’t know her well, but she knows him well, and knows he has never had the patience for these things. For small talk and investing time getting to know people. Then why this change? 

Had she been the one holding him back?

Something grabs his attention, and she follows his flickering eyes to the kitchen, where Poe and Finn are embracing, sharing small soft — not friendly — kisses.

It’s hard to tell what is going through his mind, his face could be described as impassive at best, but there is a lightness to his shoulders that wasn’t there before, and he even attempts a smile at Jannah as she tells a joke.

It’s not jealousy, that stabbing pain in her chest.

_It’s not._

****

For a while, it all seems...okay. She wouldn’t say nice, but nice is a far stretch considering how the evening has evolved. By the time Poe invites everyone to sit down, arms stretched to carry the large tray of tacos, a happy murmur goes through the attendees. The music plays something pleasant and the windows are open to let in a refreshing summer breeze. 

And the food smells absolutely divine, bordering on criminal. Rey hurries to the table, watching Poe place it all in the center, the burned wooden cutting board an image taken straight from Instagram. 

“You can sit at the end Ben.” Poe instructs like the perfect host he is —

— which turns out to be next to her.

It’s a tight fit, Poe’s table only seats so many, so when he sits down, their knees bump by mistake. They flinch as if struck by lightning, and Ben almost spills his cup of beer over the table. 

From the other end, she sees Poe raise an eyebrow at her. A wicked glint in eyes, as he takes a long obnoxious sip from his cup.

Asshole. 

They divide the food amongst them, while Rey considers what to say to him or how to say nothing to him. It seemed easier when she disliked him, but apparently awkward silence gets so much harder when you actually like the person.

Ben coughs into his hand, not quite looking at her. “It's — “ A sniff, “— a couple, with a 3 year old who bought the house.”

Rey glances up at him, mouth stuffed with taco. He gives her a comforting smile. “I thought you might want to know.”

Sometimes she thinks if she knew less, the better.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, swallowing the grilled chicken and avocado, making some attempt at adopting table manners. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Where are you gonna go? Are you staying in the city.”

He waves his head from side to side, thinking. “Ah. Well, I move out in a month — and then, I don’t know. Leia has offered me her guest room until I figure stuff out.” A bitter exhale. “Things happened a bit fast.”

A part of her wants to rub it in his face, throw it all back and remind him that he is the one who made things this way. 

Then again, he is also the one who made it so that they are talking. Feeding that little girl inside who wants to be in his life and not the monster she wants to see him as. She gives him a shy smile, which briefly stalls him until he grants her one in return. 

And for a brief moment, she believes that maybe this evening won’t be as much of a disaster as she had feared. They share small things, insignificant things, nothing that even addresses the absolute horror the last months have been.

If they can’t be husband and wife, least of all lovers, perhaps it is written in their cards that they can be friends. A silly reward all things considered, but would she rather be without?

Then, because good things never last, Ben nods at the banner, smiling and joking —

“Isn’t it a bit rude? Calling Poe a loser?”

“Poe?”

A nod, Ben drinks from his cup, “He hadn’t mentioned to me he was leaving anywhere, where is he —”

“It’s me.” Rey interrupts.

He blinks at her, the rim of his cup resting against his plump lips.

“I’m — I’m leaving.”

He narrows her eyes in that way he always does when something surprises _and_ confuses him.

_“You are leaving?”_

Tightening her mouth to keep whatever instinctual reply in, she briefly looks away, wondering how to possibly explain — except, there is only one answer. 

“Yeah.” Her hand fists her Santa Claus napkin and his eyes fall instantly on the ring he has gifted her. “I’m moving to San Diego.”

The rest of the party is oblivious to their hushed conversation, and for a few glorious moments she thinks he might be okay with it. That he has accepted that by setting her free, she is no longer permitted to tell him — just as he didn’t tell her about that house.

She should have known better.

“Why the _fuck_ are you going to _San Diego?_ ”

Stiffly, she raises her cup to down the wine.

“I’ve applied to school there.”

He gapes, like properly gapes, “When did you — you want to go to school? Since when? You know there are schools _here_ right?” 

“I know there are schools here.”

“And what is wrong with those schools? Why are you moving _across the country_ to go to school?”

“ _Ben_.” 

“I don’t understand — you don’t know anyone there — why the fuck would you —”

She flips her head to him, snarling. “Stop it. We aren’t together. I don’t have to explain myself _to you._ ”

Silence falls across the room, everyone’s attention has turned to the pair at the end of the table, who has reverted from bashful conversation to outright hostility. But their attention makes no difference, because the wave of six months of pent up emotions is already cascading, building and building. 

Social conventions are not gonna stop either of them to make their voices heard.

At least that has not changed.

“You don't have to —” He laughs, despite nothing about this being funny. “Is this some prank? This is your goodbye party? You tell me at your _goodbye party!”_

“I didn’t think you were coming. It’s not like I invited you.”

“Then what about all the other evenings?” Distraught, he flings his arm around the room, “You didn’t think to tell me you were leaving then!”

“ _You_ didn’t tell me _you_ were selling the house.”

“That’s not the same!”

“Of course it is!” Rey spits. “And why should you know? You broke up with me!” He visibly winches at her anger, “And maybe I don’t think it’s fun living in a place that you tainted with shitty memories.”

“ _Shitty memories._ Really, Rey?” 

“Guys —” Finn reaches over the table in a futile attempt at calming them down. 

Ben pants, the shy reacquaintance they had begun to explore smashed to pieces by her need to move on. And he looks at her soulmate with something akin to betrayal.

“Of course. Losers. _Plural_ . You are going with _him.”_ Breathless, he shakes his head — “Fuck this shit.” 

With what sounds like a conclusion, he rises from his chair with a screech and marches out the door, bag slung over his shoulder. 

It is a dumb idea, before she even entertains it. Nothing good will come of it. But Rey is driven by instinct, a feral little gremlin, which surprises no one, still, everyone objects when she follows him. Because even with all their well-meaning intentions, it is a universal fact that she is too emotionally riled up to ignore the fight.

To not engage. 

“Don’t you dare walk away like I’m in the wrong!” Rey yells, the moment she spots him from the door storming down towards the elevator. “You are the one who gave up on us. Not me.”

In her hurry to refute him, Rey has forgotten her shoes and winches against the coldness of the floor, as she chases him. First towards the elevator and then into the stairwell, when he decides it takes too long to arrive.

He makes it down one flight of stairs, before she halts him by latching on to the leather strap of his bag, and _growls_ —

“You don’t get to shame my decision!”

He stumbles, and gazes up at her like she’s delirious. “I don’t get to…—” or maybe he’s the one bordering on a mental breakdown. “— shitty memories. _We are a shitty memory?_!”

“Everything is shit here Ben! Everything reminds me of this shit. And yes — that includes the two of us.”

“How the fuck can you say, that when you have a _soulmate_!”

“You keep using that as an argument, but it isn’t! We are just platonic soulmates.”

“ _Platonic soulmates_ ?! No such thing. And it’s not an _argument_ ! It’s a _fact_.”

They are nothing but animals, showing their teeth and snarling accusations at each other. And for once, her standing a few steps above him, they stand face to face, equal in their misery, equal in their reproval. 

“You just saw Finn kiss Poe. How can you say there’s no such thing?!”

A cruel smirk twists his face into something ugly, “I don’t know what kinks you guys are into, and I honestly don’t want to kno—”

The force with which she pushes his shoulder is enough to make him collide with the railing. He _oomphs_. Her face is on burning now, the tears are a given at this point.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” She wishes her voice didn’t tremble, even if it’s because she’s angry. “And that’s great coming from you! You proposed because I was blowing you when you were sad about your ex!”

“ _What?_ ”

“Don’t pretend that wasn’t why you did it!”

“Wow, that’s really fucking low!” His lower lip quivers, like a man genuinely miserable. “I _proposed_ because I thought you wanted this forever too!”

“ _I did!_ ”

“Right! You _did_.”

There have been moments in their relationship, where Rey has wanted to punch him, to kick him in the stomach, but never one quite as much as this one.

Trying to ignore that sentiment, she resorts to rubbing her eyes, willing herself not to cry, not over him over them, over anything.

“You’re doing it again.” A sniffle. “I say what _I_ feel and immediately _you_ decide that _my_ feelings aren’t true. You’ve already made up your mind about it all. _You_ made us past tense! Not me!”

A pipe next to them whines, it's deafening. But Rey hardly hears it from the way her anger roars in her ears. She can hardly make out his ludicrous truths. 

“I didn’t make a decision!” He waves a hand towards the ceiling, to the sky, to whatever created a divine bond between people. “Someone spoke for both of us!”

“No. Ben. You did. You spoke for us! For me — like you always do.”

Eyes glistening, like she has spoken the greatest offence, Ben grits his teeth “I have _never_ done that.”

“Oh?” Rey mimics his posture, placing her hands on her hips, mocking him —” What about when — _Hey Rey. I’m getting a job out west without asking you. Oh, also I bought us a house I expect you to live in that you’ve never seen — and —_ ”

Temper flaring, he rushes up the steps so he towers over her, his lips drawn back in a burning snarl and jabs a finger at her face.

“You want to talk about _that_ ?! I get offered an amazing opportunity, but _you instantly dismiss it._ You can’t live on the west coast, you can’t this and that — So I buy us a house, so I can stay here, _for you_ — and all you do is complain —”

“That’s—”

His voice breaks, wetness creeping into the seams. “But apparently, it wasn’t the west coast that was a problem. _It was me_ . All it took for you to change your mind was a _Finn_.”

It’s different, terrifying to see the broken anger he exposes others suddenly directed at her. And it only makes her more spiteful, that he reduces her to someone he can yell at. 

“Well, maybe it's because he fucking _asked_ me. He just didn’t jump that information on me randomly —”

“I gave you a choice! I could annul it, I could reject the offer!” His chest heaves with exertion, his eyes shimmer, “Don’t twist my words. I gave you a _choice_ ! You had _agency_ . If you didn’t want it you could say no — but you _didn’t._ ”

“It’s not about choice! It’s about involving me — discussing it.” A door slams somewhere below, “— I was 19. I was in love. Afraid to lose you — and even then. I tried to tell you so many times what I wanted to do! And every time you were like ‘boring’, ‘overrated’ — I wanted to go to Paris and you just _snorted_!”

“That never happened!”

“It did! You just...dismissed me!”

Ben growls, turns around and shouts “If it’s that Important take fucking Finn.”

“I don’t want to take Finn. I want to go with _you_!”

He shakes his head opting to ridicule her confession, rather than listen to her plea. “Why? I’m obviously so terrible to you!”

“Because I love you! Despite how insanely hard you make that sometimes!” It’s clear cut the moment her heart breaks all over again. It comes first as a sob, then a wail “— _You_ checked out as soon as I sparked with Finn. _You_ made that choice too, _you_ decided my feelings. My truths.” 

And just like that the tears she desperately wanted him not to see fall down her cheeks.

“ _Rey_.” 

“You chose them. I didn’t.”

Jaw tense, Ben cups his mouth at the sight of her hurt, and looks like a man with regrets, with a decade of pain bubbling to the surface. “Fuck.”

A part of her is afraid he’s learning the wrong lesson, that he’ll take away the wrong information. That she hates him, that he’s manipulative and cruel, when he is not. But she also wants to hurt him, wants to witness how he feels when she tells him _her_ truth. 

Quitely, Ben asks out loud, maybe to her, maybe to himself. “What was I supposed to do?” followed by a miserable growl. “What would you have done in my stead? I’m sure you’d be _thrilled_ if I found my soulmate just as we were about to get married”.

She grimaces, “I —”

“Tell me then, Rey —” His dark eyes shimmer as their gazes lock, “— would you be comforted by only words, while I hurried off to _meet_ that person? While I secretly _texted_ that person? And all you could do was sit at home and wonder — when will he break it off? When am I not _enough_?” 

A gasping sob breaks loose from his throat, “Would you be _happy_ for me?”

Is there a point in lying? 

“No.”

The admission surprises him, surprises her, and makes him look away, almost as if he can’t stand the sight of her. Like her knowing what he must have felt is the ultimate betrayal. He shakingly wipes a tear away. 

A sigh. “I called it quits — for my sake, for your sake. It — we couldn’t last.”

In all these months apart, Rey has had plenty of time imagining what would happen if they met again. Under the spray of her shower she had religiously studied every moment of their relationship, searching for cracks, for loopholes and glimpses of resolutions and hope that maybe, if she had done this and this, they wouldn’t be here.

And then he just stands there, having the audacity to tear all her hope and dreams to shred with one sentence.

It breaks her. 

With a body-wrecking cry, Rey sinks to her feet and sobs into her knees.

He’s quiet for a moment, torturously long, before saying. “Rey — please —” and it's repulsive to hear him try and convince himself, convince her. “We — we are clearly incompatible. Maybe...he..your ...was a blessing in disguise.” 

Is there even a point to her sitting here any longer? Chasing a man who has given up.

Who broke his promise.

“You said you...you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

It’s as if that simple reminder, that shared reference, sheds all the anger off his shoulders, leaving only the sweet Ben she knows. With a whine, he falls to his knees and clutches her shoulders. It feels disgusting, his affection — she wants to push him away, wants to punch him, wants to go on her knees and beg him. 

“Rey. You’re not alone.”

She wishes he hadn’t come today, that Poe hadn’t invited him, that their connection could just have fizzled out and become the past. She hates that he smells good and that his shirt scratches her nose when he draws her into an embrace. And worst of it is that it's her shirt, she gave it to him, a reminder of safety and home. But most of all, she hates how he became her home. The one person she wants to wake up next — and then he just... _doesn’t feel the same._

The realization hits her with such force that she becomes breathless, that this will be the last time she’ll ever see him. This is their last memory. Not one of happiness but of misery, forever tainted. 

So she kisses him. 

Because she’s a selfish, _selfish_ girl. Too desperate to not do it. To have it, one last time.

His nose digs into her cheek, as he instantly parts his mouth to reciprocate. No hesitation, nothing like their first time. They move as they have always done, except this time their tears merge, almost as if they are using their lips to mend and soothe the wounds they have just inflicted on each other.

And it's ridiculous, two broken adults making out like teenagers, in the middle of a fire escape illuminated by industrial fluorescent light with muddy shoe tracks up the stairs. 

Still, they fall back, moving as on autopilot, groaning, moaning, his hands crawling up and around her waist, clutching her tightly. Pulling and clawing, wanting to drag that last of their connection from each other. 

She wishes the way he exhales her name, over and over again, didn’t make her stomach swim or that she loves how tightly he’s holding her.

A hand pulls on her shorts. It all happens as if following an old script of theirs — they are about to have sex. Probably mind blowing hard and fast, uncaring about the world around them, because their pandora’s box has opened.

Still, as he cups her breast through the shirt, a part of her acknowledges that sleeping with him will be a mistake. It won’t undo anything, only rip them further apart in mutual shame. They are not in a good place and fucking it out won’t make it any better…

Probably worse —

“Rey?!”

As if spooked awake from a nightmare, Rey pushes Ben away by his chest, panting, head churning with confusion and most of all, horror. There are footsteps running down the stairwell and Ben looks at her like something painfully profound just happened, all breathless and in awe.

No. No. She can’t go down this path. She can’t have him hurt her again.

Half scrambling, half shoving him, Rey pulls away and up the stairs, using one hand to cup her mouth and the other to readjust her shirt, a futile attempt at hiding the evidence of their crime. 

How could she fall into his arms so readily? What a fool she is.

The footsteps come to a halt atop of the platform and they both turn to see Poe looking very surprised at what must be quite a sight.

Ben’s hair disheveled, reaching out for her and Rey avoiding it like a frightened deer.

“What is —”

“I can’t —” Rey blurts, forcing herself out of — whatever is happening — scrambling up the stairs to Poe.

Her neighbour stops her, silently asking a question she really isn’t in the mood to answer. 

San Diego cannot happen soon enough, the liberation it can offer her — and perhaps it is that fictitious belief of a happier ending, that makes her twist off the ring engagement and deposit in Poe’s hand.

  
  


****

  
  


Afterall, what is the point in waiting for someone who isn’t waiting for you?

  
  


****

**2019**

  
  


“How much?”

“Those — a pound, ten dollars.”

Rey turns the apple in her palm, inspecting it for dents or signs of rot. Not that she’s any good at it. Determining quality is Ben’s area of expertise. And what’s the point of her making an honest but halfhearted attempt when he loves it. She is sure he could spend hours walking from stall to stall, judging the produce according to whatever internal scale of measurement he has in his mind. Wanting only the best of the best.

Honestly, Rey thinks it's silly. Food is food and she has had some of her best meals from a dumpster. Then again, she hadn’t had something to eat for two days — so the taste of it was probably influenced by that. Still —

The stall owner watches her with an air of curiosity, probably seeing through her fake produce connoisseur persona. She eyes him back, and attempts at sounding knowledgeable enough -

“Where are these from?”

“Our own farm — right outside the county.” The stall owner gestures to his sign, an idyllic painting of a farm with bright green trees. In fact, all of it is disgustingly cozy. With red and white checkered tablecloths, stray hay and the mandatory farmers outfit consisting of overalls and a hat.

It’s all really staged, still, this is the reason why she loves when the farmer’s market opens during the summer. 

While it hadn’t been her idea to go the first time, she has come to love getting up, kissing Ben good morning, brushing her teeth and then walk the three blocks down hand in hand and be met with the most glorious sight. Aisle on aisle of artisanal goods and freshly harvested fruits and vegetables. Jakku didn’t have this, none of it, and she loves it. If they can, they go every weekend during the summer.

Stretching her neck, Rey spies for her boyfriend, who she lost somewhere around the honey seller — they still need to buy flowers for Leia, whom they are visiting for Sunday lunch. She glances down on her phone, about to call him when —

“Oh my god. _Rey?_ ”

A full head of black hair sweeps in front of her and Rey flips her head to find —

“Jessica!”

Her former coworker gives a squeal and pulls Rey into a tight one armed hug, and that’s when she notices the small toddler hanging on her hip.

“You are a mother?” Rey gasps, placing the apple down so she can grab her friend by the shoulder to take her in. 

She looks great, hair a bit shorter and maybe a wrinkle or two, but that’s it. Except for that undefinable warmth she glows with, she looks like the same Jessica Pava who would tease Rey silly at the coffee maker. “When did that happen?”

“Well, he’s 9 months now? So, 18 months ago?” Jessica proudly bounces her baby “— and _someone_ decided we had to get up at 4.30 this morning. Yes, you _did_.”

It’s hard not to smile, when the little human is the epitome of a cute baby. All chubby cheeks and beautiful black curly hair. Jessica wipes a bit of snot off his tiny nose. He squirms, clearly not happy with the roughness of the napkin. “He’s getting so big. I can’t believe it.”

“He’s a beautiful thing,” Rey compliments, pinching the softness of his cheek. He sputters in response, giggling. 

“Want to hold him?” Her ex-coworker suggests “I just need to go pick up some coffee? I’ll be back super quick?”

“Me?”

“Yeah!” Jessica clarifies, the baby already half deposited into Rey’s arms, blowing bubbles of spit as he coos. “It’ll only be a second!”

“Oh, sure,” Rey grunts, adjusting the tiny human in her arms, so his bum rests on her forearm, while she holds him close. “I can watch him for a second.”

They part with a kiss on the cheek, one on the top of the black curly hair of the toddler, and a brief ‘be right back’.

Rey sways the chubby little thing, who watches the retreating back of his mother with mild indifference. 

What a sight. Jessica, a mother. 

Carefully, she glances down at the toddler busy blowing bubbles from his lips. She is afraid to give the sudden warmth in her tummy a name, but holding him brings back memories from foster care. Because while there hardly were any young children or if there were, only for a short time, Rey remembers loving playing and cooing to them. To hear them giggle and sputter. To have them smack kisses on her cheeks, leaving a sea of saliva on her skin.

The black curls bounce as she sways him, and she can’t help herself. With a gentle finger she curls around the tip, in awe of how soft it is. It makes her wonder if this is what Ben looked like as a child? She can easily imagine it. Big ears and chubby cheeks with a wild mane of hair. Kind of how he looks in the morning. 

It’s a shame that her version of Ben from before is mostly made up in her own head, but her attempt at making Leia take out the family albums has so far been stubbornly — bordering on a tantrum — rejected by the subject of said pictures. She’ll get there though, will break him eventually.

Would their kid look like this? Rey wonders to her _immediate_ regret. 

They haven’t even talked about it. Does he want kids? Does she? 

“ _Rey,_ did you steal a child?”

Speaking of the devil. 

Rey looks up, smiling at her boyfriend who stands frozen, phone in hand and just — stares.

“I ran into Jessica Pava. She asked me to watch him for a second. She’s getting coffee.”

Somewhat still perplexed, but now eased with some relief, Ben runs a hand through his hair, repeating her words back at her.

“Jessica Pava had a baby.”

“Seems so, a little chubby one too. Those are the best kinds.” Rey gives the cheek a little pinch, grinning at the way the baby giggles. Perfect in every way. Even if his attention seems to have been entirely taken by _the giant_ towering over the two of them. 

The little thing is smitten.

Ben moves his jaw, like he doesn’t know what to do with a toddler and especially not the attention of one. With a cautious raise of an eyebrow, hands pocketed in his pants, he watches the toddler reach out and grabs a portion of his t-shirt.

“I think he wants you to hold him?”

“What?”

“Here,” Rey sings, lifting the baby by the armpits and passing him over to Ben, who takes the chubby thing more out of not knowing what else to do and just lets him...dangle. 

Delirium or possibly dehydration, it has to be one of them. What else could explain that sudden sweetness churning in her stomach at the strange sight of Ben holding a child. He isn’t even holding him right.

“Are you sure?” he asks carefully.

Smiling, arms crossed, Rey shrugs, “I mean, you should probably hold him differently, but he doesn’t seem to mind,” — and helps him adjust the kid so it sits on his hip, busy mouthing Ben’s hand. 

“I’ve never known what to do with babies.”

“Just bounce him a little? Make a weird face.”

Ben presses his lips together, trying his best to mimic some kind of swaying motion. “You’re a funny little thing aren’t you —” Her boyfriend begins, grimacing at the drool from the baby’s mouth “— strange to think you are going to be an adult one day.”

“You say that like you weren’t a kid once.” He blushes a bit at her joke, looking contemplative. 

“I was born an adult. Old soul. That’s why my mom used to say.”

Rey steps a little closer, pinching Ben’s cheek instead. “Well. If you’d show me those baby pictures of you I’d be able to judge for myself.”

A heart scoff, “should I be persuaded — what will you give me in return?”

A hum, she draws his free hand to her waist, looking up at him in the way she knows he likes. Sweetness replaced by warmth and suggests — “I’ll let you see what’s under my —”

Ben spots something, or _someone_ and his hand falters from Rey’s stomach.

“Bazine?”

  
  


****

  
  


Ben’s ex-girlfriend.

  
  


****

  
  


“Something is off about Ben today, don’t you think?” 

Rey looks out the window to see why Leia is wondering aloud, even though it really isn’t necessary. The cigarette between the older woman’s fingers burns lazily, while she blows out smoke into the warm summer afternoon. She’s watching Ben in the gardens, walking around in deep contemplation, kicking patches of dirt with his head low and hands pocketed.

“Last time he did that was that one time he came home from Luke’s.” 

Her boss isn’t wrong. He’s being weird. He has been like that since the market and all the way here. 

While Rey is not entirely sure what brought about his sudden change of mood at the market, she knows it happened while they spoke to Bazine. It hadn’t been an awkward conversation, but it hadn’t been smooth sailing either. 

It had been what she suspected. A mix of jealousy and confusion, spurred on by some societal convention dictating Rey had to be calm. And to her own disappointment, Bazine had actually been quite nice, even sweet — nothing like how Rey had wanted to paint her in her mind.

The one who left Ben to find his soulmate.

Rey shrugs, not really knowing what to tell her, Bazine hadn’t said anything Rey would consider triggering for Ben and resumes washing the plates from dinner, careful not to ruin the gold plating. “Maybe?”

For a while Rey believes that Leia might be inclined to let it go, to let the two figure things out on their own, but then she spies from the corner of her eye that scrutinizing yet careful look of Leia’s immediately followed by a gentle conscious prod.

“How was the farmer’s market today?”

“Fine.”

It was fine. It really was.

“Pretty flowers too. Thank you for those.”

“You’re welcome.” Rey stacks the plates on the rack, wiping some errant soap off her nose. “We met Jessica and her baby.”

Surprised, Leia smiles while exhaling the smoke. It smells sweet, like that one foster parent Rey had actually liked. “Jessica Pava? I saw that somewhere on the internet. A boy or a girl?”

“A boy. Very cute. Chubby.” Rey raises her hand from the sink to pinch the air like she would pinch his cheeks. “He had the most gorgeous set of hair. Black and curly.”

“I remember when Ben was a baby. His hair was so black, the softest thing. I don’t know who he got that hair from, it must be on my biological father’s side. Or Han’s. It smelled incredible. It was hard to stop touching it when he grew older.”

She rinses the plate off their lunch. A simple salad accompanied with some kind of fish — followed by strawberries plucked from Leia’s own garden. “Did you ever meet them? Your parents?”

A shake of the head, Leia stubs the cigarette on the outside wall. “I know only what I managed to salvage from people who knew them. There are no records of them besides a very well hidden marriage certificate.”

A frown, Ben hadn’t ever mentioned that. “Sounds like a secret?”

“She was a senator and he was her bodyguard. It was a secret — even if they were soulmates.”

“Oh? Your parents were soulmates?”

Leia tilts her head to the side, rubbing her chin. “Ben didn’t tell you? He cared about that a lot as a child. That they had been soulmates.” She looks beautiful tonight, hair twisted into a loose braid, a look Rey has seldom seen. At the office she always put on a facade of business and power. 

“No. He hasn’t.” Rey puts the last plate to the side, drying her hands in the towel. “— actually, he never talks about soulmates or —” Her brows crease, because it is odd, if it had mattered that much and “ — we met Bazine Natal today.”

“Bazine? Didn’t Ben date a Bazine once who wanted to find a soulmate?”

“He did. Four years ago. ” Rey throws the towel over her shoulder and leans forward to rest her elbows on the counter, cupping her mouth in thought. “She’s found her soulmate.”

For a moment only the chirping from the garden and the sound of cars driving is the only sound in the vast kitchen with its brown 60’s designer decor. But not because there aren’t words to say. Leia looks over her shoulder to where Ben must be living out some personal struggle, before asking.

“When?”

Leia doesn’t comment, just looks at her son in the garden.

Rey sighs. “They met apparently a few days after her and Ben —. He was a temp security guard at Ben’s building.”

It had been strange to hear her tell the story of her and Ben as the romantic catalyst for her finding her soulmate. That the hurt she probably inflicted on him was a noble sacrifice for her to meet someone fated for her. When Rey thinks back, that’s when Ben had gotten quiet.

When Bazine, despite her friendliness, had kept going on about divine unions and divine children, to which her boyfriend had very simply gone the silent route. One he seldom takes — preferring to fight it out instead.

Had...his ex mattered more to him than he had expressed? He did stutter a harsh no when Bazine had awkwardly mistaken Jessica’s son for theirs, and then proceeded to forget how long he had been together with Rey. 

Something about this feels wrong in a way it hasn’t felt in years — “They are married now. Went to Paris for their honeymoon.” Not since the first few months where things were up in the air.

He had even brutally scoffed when Rey politely replied to Bazine’s story that she too wanted to go to Paris, that _‘no you don’t. It’s overrated and expensive’._ And she knows him well enough that his position on that was unshakeable from tone only. 

Shame. She really does want to go to Paris.

Leia jumps from the window, walking over to help her put the plates in their right spot. “I’m happy for her. Sounds like she’s in a good place.”

Thinning her lips, “I’m curious.” Trying to stop the doubt and jealousy from creeping into her voice. “— why isn’t Ben more intent on finding his soulmate? Or is he just not _telling_ me he’s looking?”

A raised eyebrow, that’s all Leia gives her.

She isn’t used to discussing their issues with his mother, but Leia had dug her way onto her skin, which must have gotten thinner from the experiences today. Rey is usually more ...reassured. 

“What if he’s just stalling by being with me until the moment he sparks with someone?”

Frowning, Leia steps closer and places a hand on the taller woman’s shoulder, suddenly very serious —

“Rey?” Ben calls from the living room.

And all Leia ever manages to give her is a pointed look, she doesn’t know how to interpret.

  
  


****

  
  


He’s quiet when they walk home, too, hardly commenting on how hot the weather is or complaining about work, which seems to be a thing that is on his mind more and more often lately. It’s not explicit, but small jabs here and there, about Snoke trying to make his visits more frequent to the west coast or people making mistakes he has to remedy.

Rey doesn’t like this mood — this quiet — it's not like him. At least not with her.

She watches him carefully through the door connecting the bathroom and bedroom while brushing her teeth. He’s still fully dressed, lying on the bed scrolling through his phone with a worried crease between his eyes. That one she recognizes — it's the look he has when something puzzles him — or if he’s reminded of his father.

But what could possibly be puzzling him?

The thought comes with warning — that maybe Bazine reminded him of his plight? That Rey is in fact not his soulmate? Afterall, the last couple of years have lulled them both into an easy domesticity. It’s easy, chores divided and all that — but she’s not ‘the one’.

Drawing her hair behind her neck, she spits out the frothy toothpaste, and calls, “You okay?”

She sees him wave his hand from his spot on the bed, his way of saying ‘it’s fine’ without ever uttering the words. 

_It’s fine, my ass_ , Rey thinks to herself, mentally chastising herself for even asking. It’s clear as day that something is afoot — and he must know it too. 

She flicks off the lights to the bathroom and moves to him with obvious intent, but it is only when she places one knee on the duvet and crawls so she rests between his legs, that he gives her any attention. 

They don’t speak, per se. He raises an eyebrow in question and lets her pluck the offending device from his hand and place it on the bedside table. With a stiff lip, she leans over and lies down on his stomach, so they are chest to chest, her head resting on his collarbone.

His hand finds her back immediately and with a sigh he trails his knuckles up and down her spine.

“Do you want me to guess? Or do you want to ask me?” he asks.

She doesn’t turn so she can look at him, perhaps afraid of the answer written on his face or maybe to give him privacy. She grumbles instead and snakes her arm around him and voices her concerns.

“You’ve been very quiet today.”

“Have I?”

He brushes a hand up her shoulder, twirling a loose tendril of hair around a finger, humming, lost to some memory where she isn’t a guest.

“You’re sad. Why?” Rey sighs into his shirt.

“I’m not sad.” 

With a disbelieving huff, she lifts herself up by the elbow and reaches up to first smooth the lines at his mouth, “Ben. You’re a terrible liar —” and then the crevice between his brows “— why are you shutting me out?”

“I’m not shutting you out.” 

They both know it's a lie.

Her thumb runs over the beginning of a wrinkle at his eye. He’s turning thirty-four soon. How many years of his life has she wasted?

He takes her hand into his and relents, kissing the palm. 

“I’m not exactly sad. Maybe a little — but it's more like — it's hard.” He nuzzles the calloused skin with his nose. “Meeting Bazine today brought...old thoughts back.”

Her heart _sinks_. Even in all her logic and maturity, some part of her had obviously hoped that all of this wouldn’t be about the other woman. The one who was there before. The one whom neither can deny, but gosh, Rey desperately wants to. 

“Old thoughts?”

“Well. She left because I wasn’t her soulmate.” He presses her knuckles reverently against his cheek, eyes wetter than she’d like “— and, that was her right and I’m happy for her, that she made it.”

“Why don’t you seem happy then?”

“I am happy — I’m also just...It was nice. To be in the blind, that I could question whether or not her leaving was a mistake.” A bitter chuckle escapes him “— that _I’m_ not a mistake.” 

“ _Ben_.” Rey begins, intending to repose, but he interrupts her with a smile and a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay. It’s my problem.”

“Is it because your grandparents were soulmates?”

A grunt followed by Ben sliding them both down on the bed, so they can both look up the ceiling. His arm is tight around her. “So that’s what you and mother were talking about.”

“She didn’t say much. Only that you cared a lot about soulmates as a kid.”

Rey draws something unintelligible over his t-shirt, which smells lightly of sweat and sunscreen. Ben hums in reply.

“I did. There was something...fascinating about that. That hardly anyone knows they had children together —” A scoff —”rumour goes my grandfather _defected_ — heck, they say he _killed_ her.”

“You sound like you don’t believe it.”

“Of course he didn’t murder her,” he says it matter of factly. “They were soulmates afterall.”

Rey falls quiet, thinking it's kind of strange to have a rumour like that about soulmates. 

“I think my mother believes he did it — but I don’t. Soulmates don’t do that.”

“Well. A lot of perfectly normal non-soulmates couples don’t either — like your parents. They weren’t soulmates.”

“Trust me. They tried.” A tired groan. He draws a hand over his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Maybe that’s why I’m so _wrong_. Why I’m so — because my parents weren’t…— I’m not like one of Bazine’s kids. Perfect and good. A divine child.”

Coldness rushes through her and makes her sit up instantly, prying his hand away from his eyes, needing to know with what earnestness he means it. “Ben, you are not _wrong_. My parents weren’t soulmates either — and if you are wrong then I’m —”

He follows her up, eager, desperate to soothe — but there’s anger there too. “No. No - you, Rey, you are perfect, amazing —”

“But we’re not without problems, Ben. Soulmates have problems, too.” 

Tensing his jaw, he adds, “Well, I don’t think soulmates have to suffer from their boyfriend being angry, condescending, heck — maybe a little uptight —”

Chin up, she counters his truth, “I think you are gentle, understanding and — tall.”

“Tall?”

“You can reach the upper cabinets.”

Amused, he can’t help but smile. “Are you merely using me for my height, Miss Niima?”

“Amongst things.” Rey lifts her thighs to rest on his, resting her forehead against his. “Ben, your only fault is listening too much to yourself and not to others.”

“If I listened to you, I would’ve gotten sick with food poisoning. Candy found in the bottom of your bag isn't meant to — _what_?”

Rey had not snuck into their bed with the intention to seduce him, to appease his aching soul, but there’s just something about this, about him feeling like he is wrong by the _core_. It’s a shame, a horrific thing to believe.

And the desire to prove him wrong, to make him believe the rightness she sees in him, is more pressing than whatever else she could do. She can do something Bazine can’t. 

He’s soft when she slides down to grasp him through his pants, but it takes only a second for him to twist and pulse. 

“Rey?”

“You’re sad.” 

The way she sways her hips is meant to be alluring, but honestly it feels more awkward. Ben sits frozen, and she’s crawling back to kneel between his legs all while trying to stroke his slowly hardening length. 

“— and blowing me makes me...less sad?”

“We’ll see.” Rey teases, running her nose against the line of his pants. Mouthing at the fabric. “Or maybe it’ll take your mind off Bazine.” 

The belt comes off easily, and the zipper almost unzips itself to reveal a cock _straining_ his tight underwear. 

It’s a pity. 

“Oh —” He chokes the moment she releases him, cock warm in her hand “— Rey. My mind has never been —”

While taking him has gotten easier with time, it is always a literal mouthful for her to do this. But gosh she loves it, the way a specific stroke of her tongue can make him unravel, make him gasp and whine. How she can reduce him to a myriad of things, because she holds the power.

She wraps her hands around the base of his erection, licking her lips before pressing them to the tip. His hips jump at the sensation, despite trying his best not to move a muscle, but can she blame him? She is working him to taunt, trailing wet open-mouthed kisses down his shaft, and then licking her way up. Long hot strips.

Glancing up she sees how his eyes have practically rolled to the back of his head, panting in tune with her swirling tongue.

It’s hard not to smile at that, his moans and grunts glowing praise. He deserves it all, her good sweet Ben and with that she takes him between her lips and sucks. The gasp it illicits makes it sound like she’s wrecking him, punishing him - as if every slight shift of her mouth is torture in itself.

But there is not only pleasure in it for him, she knows it. His absolutely adoration, how he makes her feel so beautiful even with a hand grasping at her hair. She can’t help it. Her panties grow damp, wanting more. However, right now is not about that —

_“Rey.”_ He moans her name. Like a prayer — over and over again, begging for some mercy only she can grant him.

Wickedly, she mentally prepares herself, slacks her jaw to take him to the root —

“Gosh, Rey — fuck.”

— show him how good a girl she is. That she can give him something no one else can.

Not even Bazine.

“ _Marry me.”_

Had Rey not been too occupied by tasting him, she might have actually been able to react right away. Instead she bops her head a handful of times, before slowing down. 

Did he —?

Cock still in mouth, she twists her head so to glance at him, trying to gauge his exact words. 

He’s not exactly looking at her. His eyes are closed and he’s panting hard, face and chest blooming red with a passionate flush. And for a second she thinks she genuinely just misheard him. Perhaps wishful thinking messing with her brain.

But then his eyes flutter open, noticing her pause and whispers.

“ _Please_.”

She doesn’t want to frown as she releases him with a pop, but — perplexed might be the wrong word — “You...want me to marry you?”

“I don’t — I don’t have a ring, but...my mother has —” He draws a sweaty hand over his face, chest heaving from exertion. He sounds feverish, maybe even slightly unhinged. 

He can’t possibly mean it. “Ben are you — I’m not your soulmate —”

Wrong thing to say, it turns out. With a snarl, he yanks her up by her arm, pulls her close and furiously declares, “Fuck soulmates.”

Rey has never heard a sweeter love confession. 

Yet, she can’t give in, or at least, her mind needs to catch up. She braces herself against him, and she doesn’t know if the tears running freely down her face are remnants from the blow job or his question. 

“Ben. If you are serious —I’ll — yes. I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you tomorrow or in a year.” A swallow, “But, I — Are you sure?”

This isn’t romantic, far from it. 

She is in her pajamas and he’s lying, dick out, in their shared bed after having literally just gone over his previous relationship. It really shouldn’t make her so sickeningly happy that she wants to throw up and gosh, actually, she’s not convinced she can even speak right now.

Which is okay, because instead of replying, Ben surges up to kiss her instead — and someone is sobbing, it could be her, could be him, both, it doesn’t really matter. 

They undress in a hurry, switching between dissolving into breathless laughter and weeping, and some little voice tells her they should talk about it. But how can they when he carefully lowers her down and slides home? Whispering the prettiest most impossible things as he makes love to her. How he’ll love her forever, how she’ll never be alone.

Whatever happened with Bazine is not by any means resolved. 

However, Ben chants “My wife — my wife — my wife,” while Rey cums with a thunderous giggle.

So she really doesn’t care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last full on ANGST chapter. Things will improve from here! We are earning our HEA!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated 5/10 on the TENSION scale.
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!
> 
> It's based on a prompt, that I've since lost track off.

#  Chapter 15

2021

  
  


What happened after she had fled upstairs Rey has little knowledge of — in fact, she doesn’t even want to know what words had been exchanged between Poe and Ben. What would be the point of it? Nothing would change. She would still storm off tear streaked and hopeless with the core knowledge that soulmates don’t magically fix things — and Ben doesn’t want her. 

And she may not be the first one to cry over a man, but shit, if it doesn’t feel like she is.

And she is not the first to shout at a well meaning friend and slam the door shut, when he tries to offer apologies in the shape of food and gifts, but she can’t forgive him. Not yet at least. Even if he is currently dating her soulmate.

With less fanfare and more like slapping a wet cloth over a fire, the spiteful energy she had lived off for the past few months extinguishes and she finds that for a few days there isn’t anything she can do besides lie in her bed, staring at the ceiling and make some attempt at coming to terms with what has come to pass.

Which is easy enough. Because Ben doesn’t call, doesn’t anything - but neither does she.

It’s hard not to hate him a bit for it, but equally hard not to emphasize. Because since the first time she met Finn she finally understood Ben’s looming sense of doom, how the news couldn’t be any other universal sign than for him to take the key to their future and throw it in the ocean.

She may not agree, not even by a little, but after so many hours spent scrutinizing over every word of his and imagining every instance of their tragedy with their circumstance reversed. Him connecting with someone, yearning to know them and her just left behind, cribbled with doubt. 

Wouldn’t every loving gesture of his taste hollow? Every touch of his feel like poison?

Wouldn’t it?

The fact that there is no other answer but yes, is what settles it all. Among all their trials and tribulations it turns out there really was only one kind of ending for them.

Two weeks pass. September looms on the horizon. 

Rey makes her goodbyes. 

  
  


****

  
  


“Now. This is a surprise.”

Rey shrugs, the defeat evident in the way she slumps her shoulders. What is there to say at this point? 

“I — I’m leaving for San Diego on Monday.”

“I know.”

The door is barely open, but enough so that Leia can casually lean against the frame of it. Her eyebrows raised in a look that can best be described as something akin to amused and motherly. But she isn’t smiling.

Rey wonders if her impromptu visit is even a joyous surprise one — or perhaps more a  _ dreaded _ one? The older woman, her mentor, her boss, the mother she never had, doesn’t open the door wider and it feels even more awkward than the time Han had deposited her at the house without an explanation to his wife about the orphan he had acquired and just...left.

“Leia.” Rey begs, desperate to not be turned away.

A hand shoots up, halting all attempts at convincing the older woman. Rey has not worked for her this many years without knowing her tells and knowing when to shut up and when to push.

This is a shut up.

“I’ll invite you in, but first you owe me an apology.”

“What?” Rey blurts like she doesn’t know her own reasons for not showing up for months.

Leia raises an eyebrow like she agrees that Rey really should know what she has come to show repentance for. 

“For that email you send us.”

Rey draws in a harsh breath, she had hoped she wouldn’t mention it. She rubs her neck harshly, biting her lip. “Leia —”

“Don’t Leia me. It was deeply unprofessional and honest to God — a little insulting.”

Rey thins her lips, somewhat regretting having decided to go here. But as with everything, Leia is right, and even if it hurts her pride, Rey knows its her place to say the words —

“I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Leia nods and steps aside to let her former assistance inside, acting like nothing terrible has passed between them. That everything is the same old same old.

Somehow that doesn’t sit right with her. 

Despite that nagging feeling, Rey follows her inside, grateful for the coolness of the old house with how the sweat drips off her.

Leia strides ahead, looking very relaxed in a flowy summer dress and loosely braided hair. It’s been a long time since Rey has seen her like this. Even when her and Ben would visit she would always look her best, most impeccable — only one time did Rey catch her —

“I’m having guests over.” Leia comments, walking past the familiar living room, where Rey has spent so many hours, for both insignificant and life altering events.

“Oh,” is all Rey comments, distracted by the sudden influx of memories. How many times has she not fallen asleep at the coffee table while helping Leia pull an all nighter, only to wake up stiff-necked and with a blanket draped over her body?

Or in the short while Han was here, secretly drinking beer, while listening to tales of grandeur? Sometimes Leia would even join in to narrate about her political youth, breaking into animal shelters, protesting. Never a dull moment. 

And the fireplace. She remembers that one so clearly: champagne glass in hand with Ben holding her by the waist, guests flooding the town house to celebrate their engagement. How they had both stood shyly blushing like teenagers, but proud and so, so in love.

It’s funny how a house can hold your best memories. Except, now, it’s like they are all tainted in some strange way. A technicolor dream now faded into sepia, and where they were once insignificant there are now ravines of issues.

Like the blatant family dysfunction, how Han maybe drank and smoked more than he should, the amount of overtime Leia put in and the way Ben and his family kept falling out and then falling in. Like a loop of familial torment. 

Like they enjoyed making each other suffer.

A photo catches her eye. One she has never seen.

Her and Han standing in the garden, skin summer tanned, him grinning and her rubbing her nose like a scrawny freckled kid. She looks so young and innocent.

Her lips quiver a bit, trying her best not to get upset over the loss of him — or the memory of when he had taken her out to shoot at cans, that she rivaled his son — and that he’s sure she’d kick his ass. It’s been so many years after all.

Would he have approved? Of her and Ben?

She hates that she doesn’t have an immediate answer or even an inkling of an idea of what he’d say. Almost as if she has forgotten some part of him, who he was and what he stood for.

“So. San Diego?” Leia asks, having noticed Rey stopping, but doesn’t comment on how wet the young woman’s eyes have suddenly become. “I thought you were from Jakku?”

“I am — I — Finn knows some people there and didn’t wanna go to L.A. so — San Diego.”

“Very hot there.”

“Yeah.”

Leia nods towards the kitchen, silently asking Rey to join her in the kitchen. Even though Rey knows where it is, she knows where everything is, every nook, every creaking old floorboard.

Which had been very convenient when Ben, hungover in his bed, got a little visit from his girlfriend one summer morning after the 4th of July. They made love in his small childhood bed with the window open, letting in a cool breeze that gave her goosebumps.

She supposes she has to start forgetting all these details, clean up the cabinets for new memories and important details. 

“Lemonade?” Leia pulls out a jug from the fridge, holding the perfectly sweet yellow drink up for Rey to judge. The scavenger takes out two glasses from the cupboard. That in itself enough of a reply and they fall into that same old rhythm. How can they not? Rey knows exactly what glasses Leia wants for those kinds of things and she doesn’t even have to ask for the ice. 

They stand in silence next to each other, both staring at how gently Leia pours the lemonade. It shouldn’t feel this sad. It's summer and the weather is nice and Rey has a multitude of freckles covering her nose.

Leia sighs, stirring the ice. “If it is any comfort, I’m convinced you have hurt each other equally enough.”

“You don’t have to —”

“I know.” Leia leans back against the counter, sipping from the glass and attempting to gauge the quality of Rey’s remorse, her discomfort. “But I assume some perspective doesn’t hurt. Because never in my grown life did I expect my son to weep into my lap like he did as a child.” A fond shake of the head. “I always suspected he was secretly a romantic like his father. Although they both claim otherwise.”

There are many things Rey has thought she’d want to tell Leia since that fateful day, where everything went to shit, but now that she stands in front of her, she finds that none of those things would give her any comfort, would ease or make amends.

What is the point of hearing that Ben is a romantic, when he a few weeks ago admitted that regardless of his feelings for her, he saw them as over, finito, done?

The fridge hums as it battles the summer heat. “I’d rather just let the past die by now.” Rey admits into the prespirering glass. 

A frown, Leia looks out the window, then back at her — “You’re right. There’s little point picking at the scaps.” She takes a sip, before getting to the point. “Why are you here, Rey?”

Putting the glass down, Rey swings her shoulderbag around to her front and digs out a folder with the college logo. Relieved to not have to discuss Ben with his mother any longer.

“I — I was hoping to convince you to write me a recommendation,” Rey doesn’t want to shake when she extends the folder to her, because Leia beams instantly at Rey’s request. “I wanna go to school.”

“Rey, that’s great news.” The older woman reaches forward to cradle Rey’s forearm, positively  _ radiating _ pride. “What field?”

“I thought — maybe electro engineering?” 

Leia smiles so widely that Rey can hardly recognise her, before nodding eagerly. “Of course. It’s perfect. I’ll write you a stunning recommendation.”

She can’t help it. Rey exhales in relief, shoulders sagging as she lets her almost adoptive mother’s pride envelop her. 

When she had first decided she had to get a recommendation for her application, she knew it had to be Leia. No one else should write it. And Rey couldn’t possibly leave her life behind, without saying goodbye to one of the most precious people in it.

Tearfully, Rey returns the smile, placing her own hand on Leia’s clutching her bicep. It’s a sweet moment, somehow full of unspoken understanding. Neither had wanted it to come to this. 

“Departures are a sad thing, but not a bad thing. You are growing now. I’m so happy for you.”

“Leia —” Rey tries, but the older woman quickly looks her across Rey’s shoulder, again distracted. It makes the scavenger turn, fearing the worst —

— and is met by a shorter older man with a salt and pepper beard, eyes glinting with kindness but he is unsmiling.

“I don’t think you’ve ever met him —” Leia realises with some excitement. “Rey, this is Luke.”

  
  


****

  
  


“Luke Skywalker.”

  
  


****

  
  


It feels like she’s been slapped. The sheer force of it stuns her into silence and she can’t do anything but stare at the gentle faced old man. Frail and with a soft smile as he introduces himself. But he doesn’t seem happy at all.

He extends his hand for her to shake, as if nothing has ever happened. 

As if he hadn’t tried to kill her boyfriend —

— ex boyfriend. 

And then she notices his missing right, because he gives her his left.

The age and size of him makes it hard to believe. Was this the man who had gotten high on mushrooms and hovered over his nephew’s bed with a knife raised — ready to take the life of his own flesh and blood. This small man?

His hand is warm in hers, as she shakes it lightly. Unsmiling. 

“Rey.”

“I know. Leia has shown me pictures.”

Rey doesn’t really know what to say to that. Is she happy that Leia has shared stuff about her — or horrified that he knows about her?

Leia presses a friendly kiss to Luke’s cheek and whisks both her brother and Rey into her indoor garden. It’s a nice room, filled to the brim with plants and flowers — which offer meager shade in the blistering heat, and the door someone has opened is nothing but a futile attempt at letting in some imaginary wind.

Perhaps its dehydration or shock or both? But Rey makes little resistance when seated at the white art deco metal table, across from the worst and the best person she knows. 

Should she say something? Should she yell? Walk out? Does Leia even know? Rey draws a palm over her forehead to wipe the sweat away. It makes her hand clammy, her face red and the twins sit next to each other as if nothing is afoot. That someone hasn’t been about to take her son away from him? Take Ben away from Rey.

That Luke is the cause of all the rifts in their family.

It’s disgusting, watching him drink his lemonade with a smile, wetting his moustache. Where’s the remorse? The conflict? Why is he making jokes? How can he shake Rey’s hand as if he is happy to meet her?

Is he taunting her?

“I heard you are moving to San Diego.” 

Rey blinks, taken out of her flaring angry daydreaming. “Sorry?”

“San Diego. I know some people there. It’s a nice place. Where will you be staying?”

At a loss for words, the scavenger just stares at him, unable to comprehend the calmness with which he approaches her. As if he is just a simple man with a simple past making formal small talk with his nephew’s ex.

Rey swallows, “We don’t know yet.”

Luke nods, eyes crinkling, “Let me know if you need me to get in contact with them.” A wink, “You and I are practically family anyway.”

It’s innocent enough, his choice of words, had it been any other situation - had he been any other man. But referencing the reality that she isn’t ever going to be their family, that she’ll always be that elusive thing they haven’t quite adopted but neither discarded. And here he sits, cocky, dangling that familiarity she’ll never get in some weird taunt of her situation.

That she will never be a Skywalker. 

“No, we aren’t.” Because that is the truth. Rey crunches her nose, downing the rest of her less than nice words with lemonade.

Leia and Luke share a look. 

“Of course you are family, Rey.” Leia tries to smile. “We’ll always be there for you.”

Why they feel the need to keep up the pretense, Rey doesn’t understand and she is a bit tired, possibly overheated — she doesn’t really care to participate in their family dynamic that seems to consist of well meaning intentions and intentional mockery. 

“Luke won’t. Actually, I have never met Luke.” She rubs the bridge of her nose, sighing, “Why is he here now? He wasn’t at Han’s funeral — why now?”

The orange tree behind them sway slightly from the wind outside, and Luke just looks at her. Clever blue eyes taking her in, analyzing her like she is a test subject. 

It doesn’t feel nice.

“Han’s funeral was not...intentional. My satellite phone was broken.” He speaks in such a gentle manner, which is so much worse “But today is planned. The Skywalker Trust Fund albeit perfectly run by my sister, needs my occasional signature, hence the timely visit.”

Leia gives a nod, as if confirming his story. There’s a nervous creek between her eyes.

But Rey’s interrogation is far from over. Even if it means she is burning down one more bridge to this place. 

“How long are you staying?”

“Only for a few hours. Then I’ll go back up North.”

Rey crosses her arms and leans back in her white iron chair. It creaks. “—for mushroom growing?”

Luke pauses, inhaling a deep breath before chuckling “I shouldn’t be surprised he told you that story.”

“Does Leia know?”

A resigned smirk marks his face, but he doesn’t look away from her, even if his sister gives him a puzzled expression. It's the answer Rey needs. Leia doesn’t know. He has never told her.

And that is a crime in itself.

Furious, Rey leans over the table, whispering under her breath “You come here and pretend everything is fine, when it isn’t —”

“Rey —”

“— and you haven’t even told  _ her _ .”

“Rey.” Leia speaks more firmly, letting her know just how close she is to crossing the line. But oh, if that beautiful woman only knew what has come to pass.

“What did he tell you?” Luke asks, eyes darkening.

“ _ Enough _ .”

“Rey. I don’t know you very well. And I understand where you come from — but Ben is not entirely an innocent party in this.”

“How can he possibly be complicit in this! You lied to him, you ...assaulted him and —”

“And I’m not without fault. But maybe he conveniently forgot to tell you how he left my charge by burning down the farm, taking away all my life’s work in a night?”

“This —” It’s ridiculous, how can he can sit there so calmly, when — “ — Leia! Luke tried to —”

“ _ Stop _ .” 

A single raised hand from Leia is enough to halt the scavenger, who at this point can’t do anything but stare at them disbelievingly. What is even going on?!

“Whatever it is, whatever has passed — I do not want to hear it.” Leia sighs sadly. “I have spent too much of my life without either person in my life — and if I must see them separately, then so be it.”

“Leia, how can you — he’s your son!”

Her brows furrow and the wrinkles grow harsher at Rey’s accusation. “It’s not that simple Rey.”

“Of course it is. What could possibly —”

_ “We are soulmates. _ ” Luke interjects.

Birds are chirping, leaves are bustling, a car honks somewhere in the background and there’s still a stain from the wine Rey and Ben spilled on the bench from when he drunkenly kissed her one time. And to imagine —

Luke is Leia’s soulmate.

They are soulmates.

Rey stands, broken and shocked to her core and she looks down to see her mentor suddenly look so small. There’s something akin to begging in her brown eyes, something she has never shown Rey before. Like she wants her to understand, because she out of everyone must understand — especially now that she has her own.

And Rey does. Oh. She does. How Leia would want to not know the truth. Because to lose them both, her son and her soulmate — the sliding slope into just settling, never resolving. Just get what you can, because it’s better than nothing, even if it is only scraps.

“Ben, he never told me.”

“He doesn’t know.”

Wait, did? Ben doesn’t know? Why doesn’t he —

“What do you mean he doesn’t know?” She doesn’t want to snarl the words, but she does. To believe, all this time, there are  _ still _ skeletons in their closet. Evidence of crime they have committed to each other.

The twins share a look, before Leia begins.

“It is taboo, being sibling soulmates, especially back in the day, when the public opinion shifted more to soulmates being romantic — despite science and documents clearly showing that is not that case. And it’s worse with twins.” Leia looks away, ashamed. “It would just make things worse for him. If people knew — and he was already upset that Han and I weren’t —”

“So we kept it from him.” Luke adds, taking his sister’s hand. 

Rey gawks for more than a moment, the shock of it all, the betrayal.

Her mentor takes the time to make some kind of twisted explanation. “It may be selfish, but things are improving, little by little, between all of us, and I’m scared if we mess around in our dirt, we’ll drift apart once more.” A wet laugh. “.Maybe I’m a coward. Maybe I’m just growing old. But either way I’m happy to have my family in my life. Even if it is only like this.”

“That’s, Leia — You wouldn’t say that if you knew —”

“ _ I am saying it. _ ” Leia raises her voice. “Do you think people knowing would have made it better for him? Or him knowing? Even now this could ruin everything for us.”

Luke nods, holding his sister’s hand, the gentleness in his eyes lost to anger, to frustration. “We would be shunned, Rey, maybe even chased down by fanatics and purists. Things were very different back under Palpatine. And the old ways still slip inside the cracks.” He gestures at her. “You must already have felt it. The condescension, the social ridicule.”

“And not to mention that our father killed our mother, and they were soulmates.”

She feels her cheeks flame and at this point she is pretty sure she is gonna punch him. Right there on his ugly nose. 

Rey clenches her fists, looking up at the ceiling. Because they are right, oh so right, and still it is so horrible, that they would do this to Ben.

“Rey, we are sorry to involve you, but believe us, it was never our intention to —”

“No. _ No. _ You aren’t supposed to apologize to me.” Rey huffs, wanting to claw at her skin, wanting to shake them. “It’s Ben. You lied to Ben, made him believe that —” her voice breaks, the secondhand betrayal making her want to sob, wreck things on Ben’s behalf. “— he thinks he’s  _ wrong.  _ He thinks we are wrong because all he has ever known is whatever Padme and Anakin was! That soulmates are the goal — the —”

“We tried Rey. Believe us. But Ben is set in his ways — him knowing would just make it worse.”

Rey paces, walking to the orange tree behind her, distraught and in no need for their excuses “No. No — I know we had our issues. I know we were young and foolish, but everything that went wrong the past...fucking year is because you never told him! — never tried to make him understand.”

The realization dawns on her, all this time, it went wrong because “— he didn’t know any better. He didn’t think —” 

A hand touches her shoulder, “Rey. Stop it.” Some of Leia’s frustration slips through in her attempt to soothe and calm the young woman. “We have made our peace with it. And so should you.”

Rey shakes her head, “It isn’t right, Leia. Whatever you feel you owe me, you owe him more — talk to him.” She wipes a tear away, “I’m not your son, I’m not —”

With great offence, Leia pulls Rey’s face back to her by the cheeks, almost growling the words. “No. But you are a part of this family.” Her fingers smooth the young girl’s hair back, motherly and kind, “You always will be. Always was. Long before Ben came into the picture.”

“Leia. You have to tell him.” Rey begs, “All this time — you have to set it right. That he’s not  _ wrong _ .”

A sad smile, Leia’s wipes an errant tear away from the corner of the scavenger’s eye. “It is too dangerous, Rey. Better keep it to ourselves.” 

“ _ Please. _ ”

Leia doesn’t answer, instead the dimpling of her cheek because melancholic, maybe even proud — “Look at you. What a fine young woman you have become. I’m so glad we got to have you. Even for a short while.”

It’s hard to hear Leia contradict the truth Rey has spent the last many months building, to feel the mortel break apart, for reality to crumble into something she didn’t believe possible.

That they have intentionally kept their most important truth from Leia’s son in some misguided attempt at protecting him. 

That they're still afraid, that they hold back their connection to protect everyone. 

All this time.

But most of all, Leia tells her that Rey has a family. In all these people.

People who will hug her when she’s sad. People who will feel pride at her accomplishments. People who love her despite her temper and her bad habits.

They chose her. Even with all her baggage.

And they beg her to choose them too. With all theirs.

  
  


****

  
  


Luke takes their argument as his cue to leave, but not before having a very intense heart to heart with his sister in the kitchen.

They speak lowly, but Rey hears it clearly, when he chuckles —

“She’s a spitfire, this one. No wonder Ben loves her.” 

She doesn’t like that he approves. And she ignores him when he glances briefly at Rey lying on the couch, before he opens the front door. Like he considered saying goodbye.

He doesn’t. And maybe it’s a trick of the light, but she swears Luke gives her a smirk before heading upstate again.

Rey stares at the ceiling, with its fancy stucco and hand carved decorations. She has been staring at a lot of ceilings lately. Today though, in this moment though, she feels nothing except a strange calm. Like the things that were meant to come to pass has come to pass.

“I called an Uber for you.” Leia says quietly as she steps around the couch, her eyes as red as Rey’s. Okay, maybe her own are worse, which is a feat in itself. She has been crying so much lately that it should be impossible for her to have tears left.

Apparently not.

Rey sits up so Leia can sit down next to her. They seem to both realise that this is the last time they’ll probably ever see each other and the terrible tragedy of that. 

“I’ll send the recommendation through email.” Leia begins, taking one of Rey’s hands into her. 

Rey sighs, “Thank you. The deadline is next week, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

“I’m just happy you came to see me.” 

With a sad nod, Rey clenches the woman’s hand, running a thumb over the knuckles, the wrinkles. They sit for a while, absorbing the last of their connection. Their love for each other.

“I’m not mad at you.” Leia whispers, and her eyes are so like Ben’s. All knowing and inquisitive. How they seem to understand you better than you do. “And I’m sorry you know about Luke and I. It — we never meant to hurt anyone. And that Ben disappointed you. That you disappointed him.”

Rey shrugs, “Not much to do about that now. He’s made his choice.” A bird chirps outside, the sun is almost setting. This is the end. “You should tell him. He deserves to have a choice.”

A car honks, it must be the Uber, but Rey doesn’t feel ready to leave. She wants to cancel the tickets, and wants to hide in Leia’s cupboard forever. Stay here forever and ever and ever. Leia glances out the window, gnawing her cheeks as if in deep thought, before gently asking.

“Is there anything else I can help you with? Before you go.”

And that’s when Rey realises the solution to her conundrum. 

“Actually — there is one thing —”

  
  


****

Leia  
Ben is moving out this Friday  
  
You can pick up your stuff Sunday around noon  
  
Does that work for you  
  
Your flight is the next day right?  
  
Perfect  
  
UWU  
  
Leia  
U who?  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here. Finally. The chapter that rates 1000/10 on amazingness and happiness and heart-feeling-too-full-for-chest-ness
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for reading it through!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading!

# Chapter 16

2021

There’s a sign sticking out the window. Blue, red and white, with a yellow _SOLD_ slapped over it. Rey instantly hates the sight of it and a part of her struggles with the feeling that someone has purchased, not only her house, but her future too. 

The keys dangling from her hand jingle from her twisting and untwisting her hand, gathering the courage to cross that final frontier. Still, the three steps up to the front door suddenly takes the shape of the world’s tallest mountain, steep and dangerous.

It should be easier, Rey silently complains to herself. Ben isn’t even here. And that wasn’t even at her own request — Leia had simply written her the time she could drop by and that Ben wouldn’t be there.

Hard to tell if that was Leia’s choice or his.

It’s probably for the better.

Inhaling deeply, Rey takes the first step up the stairs and turns the key as she has done so many times before. Except this time it doesn’t make that crunching sound. It is silent, smooth — which means that Ben probably oiled it as she had asked him to do a million times (and which he had stubbornly refused after a fight).

It feels wrong. It’s not supposed to sound like that. And that should really be her first clue that life has already moved on. It is way ahead of her and it’s time for her to catch up.

The hall and living room are empty, no sign of a madly in love couple and the tragedy they became. No sign of Rey having tinkered with wires to an old DVD-player or Ben leaving cups everywhere with half drunk coffee, forgotten in an angry conference call haze. 

There’s a thin layer of dust, meaning that Ben has probably moved out at least a few weeks before and in the corner of their dining room he has left three boxes, all with her name scribbled hastily on the side.

_Rey, downstairs._

In them she finds her books, a picture frame, shoes and winter clothes from the basement. She inspects them all like ancient treasures, turning them, looking for signs of...she’s not really sure, but it seems important. There’s that coffee mug Ben gifted her once, with a little dog on it. 

She huffs a low chuckle and puts it back. It had been one of the first signs of his silliness, she had ever gotten. Those cute little quirks of his that he secretly shared with her. Now all packed into a storage room of boxes. A part of her is glad that she was allowed to borrow Poe’s car (or commanded that he did if she were ever to speak with him again) and that she had declined his offer to help.

This is personal, something she has to do on her own.

Rey moves into the kitchen, tracing the countertop, feeling for the dent in the wood where she had accidentally cut her finger. But it’s not because of the pain she seeks it out — No, it's because of the panic in his eyes as he had witnessed the blood, and how he had frantically bound her finger in tissues, ranting about going to the ER and blood bags. She remembers it because when they had calmed down, she had been sitting on the counter and he had cleaned the superficial wound with such care, and placed the bandaid meticulously over the cut and kissed it.

Nothing had ever felt sweeter than Ben taking care of her. And wanting to.

Rey looks out the french doors next, their little garden where they had spent so many summer nights staying up late, cuddling up on the porch. It looks the same, which is a horrible thing in itself. 

She’s gonna miss this yard. 

The little shack, the apple tree, heck, maybe even the ants that always seemed to invade their kitchen at the tiniest sign of summer. She is gonna miss it all.

With a loaded breath, she places a hand on the window, silently wishing it all farewell and moves on to the next room and then, dreadfully, up the stairs to their bedroom.

The wood creaks as she crawls the steps, speaking tales of old and all its ghosts with every squeak. A warning perhaps, but Rey could not say. Instead she steps inside their most sacred place, now empty. The sun illuminates the room, making the dust particles light up like lazy snow on a winter’s day. 

Rey takes a deep breath, almost in defeat as she takes in the empty void of their relationship. 

There’s a pale square where their bed once stood, which is kind of annoying. To have it physically displayed where he loved her, where he made her cum so many times she cried, and where they had watched movies shoulder to shoulder, eating popcorn in bed. Rey wonders if the people who bought it would think about that — If they’d wonder what had happened here, on this spot — how the couple had found each other and then lost each other. 

Rey bends down and touches the floor, right at the edge of where the sun has bleached the floors and where the bed has archived its shades, half expecting to feel something. Anything.

Alas, it is just a wooden floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spies what looks like a shimmering white piece of cloth in the closet. It surprises her, having expected everything to be neatly stacked and packed. 

She opens the wooden door only to find —

Her wedding dress.

The sight of it is like being struck by lightning, electricity surging through her limbs and mind. It is not like she had forgotten about it, how could she, but still, it startles her, to see it hanging so elegantly where she had left it. Like a static memory amongst the faded ones.

Why hasn’t he put that in a box? Did he forget — or maybe it startled him too? The reminder too much despite all the months they’ve spent apart. She could easily see it. The repulsion in his face when he sees it. How the mere thought of touching it is too much.

Rey smoothes a hand over the lace, once the surprise settles, and gives it a small smile. 

It had been a good day, regardless of how it began, to have Leia help her pick out a dress. How she had beamed at the sight of it in the mirror, how she had braided her hair and expressed just how much she wanted her to be a part of the family.

And now she never would be. 

Rey wonders if Leia has found time to tell Ben about her and Luke. If any of them had been brave enough to start mending their familial wounds. A part of her doubts it, but it is not her place to push. The forgiveness needs to come on its own accord and the anger too.

She has learned that much at least. And in time she’ll forgive them too, Ben, Leia, Luke, Han — heck, even herself for what has come to pass. At least she doesn’t feel angry with Ben any longer — mostly sadness, for those who hurt him and how they hurt each other.

Maybe one day, when they are older, wrinkled and settled, she could call him on his phone, ask him how he is, without a pang of hurt in her heart. 

She’d like that.

With a sneeze, she takes the dress out by the hanger, inspecting it for stains, and places it up against her chest to see if it could still fit. It looks nice, still, even after 6 months in a closet. 

Rey tries not to think too much about why she hangs it on the mirror and unbuttons her shirt and slides down her shorts, or why she cradles the dress tightly, swaying from side to side as she judges her reflection.

The zipper in the back almost moves on its own, and feet first she steps into the soft silk and lace and pulls it and round her neck, the see through lace looking nice against her tanned arms and shoulders.

It really is a beautiful dress. That much is clear despite the bulkiness of the top with the zipper undone in the back. Melancholic, Rey smiles at her mirrored self and twirls the skirt in a sad mockery of a dance. It’s only her here after all. No harm in indulging the fantasy would have been January this year.

Just for a little while.

The music already plays in her head, when she closes her eyes, one hand pressed against her chest and another swaying the skirt as she moves from side to side. It’s easy to imagine it, the nice decorations, the happiness, but most of all, Ben. In a suit reaching out for her to take his hand, that boyish smile on his face that just makes him glow. Makes her heart beat a little faster.

It feels like a goodbye to that. One last act of wish fulfillment before she comes to terms with how she’ll probably never witness those deep dimples of his again. That it is time to move on and walk ahead.

The front door slams open.

“Rey!”

She physically jumps, eyes springing open at the sound of her name and covers her mouth to stall a shriek; acting on instinct more than anything else. Because — did she hear right? 

He calls her name again.

Oh God.

It’s Ben.

“Rey!” He shouts, this time a bit further away, as if he is stumbling through the rooms downstairs. 

A part of her realizes she should probably call out to him, but it feels as if her hand is glued shut to her mouth. The pure whiplash of churning thoughts and emotions an adhesive, disabling her from doing anything but be consumed by the question —

— Why is Ben here?

There’s hardly time to react, least of all figure out if she is happy or scared, before the sound of feet half stomping half running up the stairs becomes one _solid_ Ben Solo.

Tall, dark, and very much standing just a few feet away from her. Which he isn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

And somehow it seems like he’s surprised at that too, because he freezes at the sight of her, like the doorway itself is a solid barrier. Did he not expect her to be here either? Then why did he call out her name as if he thought she was?

Neither say anything, Rey because she can’t move her hand from her mouth and him because he’s panting like he has been running a marathon. 

It gives them a moment to take all this in. And she notices the sweatiness of his hair, the way his chest expands with each laboured breath, but most of all — that in his hand, a poor looking bouquet of flowers, that is nothing but stems and a few stubborn red petals wrapped in wrinkled and ruined cellophane.

Overwhelmed, Rey brings her arm to the front in some silly attempt at hiding her wedding dress up, averting her eyes. Shame positively breaking through the seams.

_“T — traffic —”_ He wheezes and shakes the flower remnants in the direction of the street. “ _Car — car — accident on 10._ ”

Rey frowns, not sure what he is getting at.

_“Ra— Ran from…-”_ He tries, looking up the ceiling with a hand against his heart, before continuing “ _Ran from the gas station —_ ”

“The gas station?” Rey grimaces, “That’s like...2 miles…—”

A chuckle, almost like he can’t believe it himself “Y — yeah.”

Too curious, she temporarily shakes off the shame to look at him, not really understanding the relieved smile on his face or the way her heart flutters at the sight of him.

Silence falls over the room, except for Ben’s slowly normalizing breath that steadily evens out, as they use the moment to take each other in. It annoys her, the smile, she doesn’t know what it means. 

What any of this means. 

Rey coughs, trying to break the awkwardness, and gestures to his hand.

“Are the — flowers for the new owners?”

“What?” Ben blurts, like he had forgotten about them, and practically howls the second he recognizes their petty state. He rubs a desperate palm against his brow, spitting a “ _Fuck_.” It makes more petals fall to the ground.

Rey had briefly entertained the idea of what would happen if she ever happened to run into Ben again a few times the past week, more in a strange daydream than anything realistic or concise. Some of it had been colored with a splash of revenge — of him growing fat and bald, and she becoming radiant and successful. Other daydreams had been shyer, with the hint of promise that maybe — just maybe —

None of them had come any close to this awkward standoff in their old house, with her wearing a wedding dress and him shifting on his feet, looking like he is borderline about to cry or run out of the house. And neither can seem to decide whether or not they should look away or at each other.

It feels quite miserable. 

Were it not for the way she is secretly happy to see him.

“The...I think the flower shop down the street is still open?” She carefully suggests.

“What?” He blinks at her proposal and then shakes his head “No. No — it’s...it was dumb.”

“Oh.” Her heart drops and silence falls over the room once more.

Maybe it was dumb, especially the small incling of a hope that the flowers were — perhaps — intended to her. But it’s clear now, that is impossible. Never once in their years together has he gifted her flowers. Other things, for sure, but not flowers. He never saw the point of the gesture. Why gift someone something that will die? 

It’s an unusual turn of events, so Rey supposes that the bouquet must be at Leia’s behest. She made Rey buy flowers all the time to appease clients.

She is not disappointed.

She is not.

With a deep, chest expanding breath, and a grimace, Ben whispers.

“You look —” a swallow “— _nice_.”

Rey blinks, and his compliment is barely processed before her cheeks flush with little warning. It annoys her that they do, because it shouldn’t matter that he says the words, especially such a ...undescriptive one. _It shouldn’t matter._

“I guess there’s no harm in you seeing it. “ With a sigh, she unfolds her arms to reveal the dress in its entirety for him to judge “—Not like it’ll make or break us.”

He doesn’t reply to that, instead he frowns, a petal falls to the ground.

“Can — some privacy?” Rey asks, gesturing at the mirror, “— While I take this off?” It seems like a silly request, considering how many times he has seen her naked and it does something funny to her stomach. She finds that she needs to turn her back to him, get him out of her sight.

So she can think.

The floorboards creak behind her and with every sound of his boots she feels her lungs hold less and less air. It’s unfair, horrible, for him to show up when she had finally come to terms with them being over and done, for her to leave this place —

Her breath hitches when she feels a knuckle brush against her spine. He hesitates at that, but when she doesn’t pull away, he replaces the knuckle with the flat of his palm, running it up her back, feeling every goosebump he makes. Only to settle at the base of her neck like a brace. 

He pauses for a moment, and perhaps he is studying her? It’s hard to tell when his touch has made her eyes flutter close. But she awaits his every move with a curiosity she shouldn’t have. Curiosity can become hope. And she is leaving tomorrow. Hope is futile at this point.

With a deep-throated sigh, he zips the dress — and presses his forehead against the back of hers.

“Did you really tell Luke to fuck off?”

Surprised, Rey chuckles despite not finding it funny.

“Shouldn’t I have?”

“Oh. You should.” There’s a little huff of amusement that tickles down her hair to her neck, “— Thank you, for defending my honor.”

It really shouldn’t make her smile, because he is being very obtuse in a way he really shouldn’t. Making her doubt herself, her own feelings, her own conclusions. But she can’t help it, she knows that sound. The one he makes when she surprises him, _excites him._

“Does that make me your knight in shining armor?” Rey asks.

Ben hums, trailing a hand down her lace shoulder, down her arm. It makes the tenseness between them ease a little, almost as if they can’t help but fall into their old ways. The mere presence of one another is enough of an enchantment to make the ugly words disappear. They mean nothing when he’s near; warm, solid and clear.

— and then she spots it. The bruises.

Shrieking, Rey grabs hold of his hand and turns it around “Ben. Your hand —!”

“Luke dropped by for a visit.” He says it like she should know what that entails, how their standoff had ended. He’s crouching slightly like a boy waiting to be scolded. “I missed. Hit a wall.”

“Jesus, Ben.” Rey exhales, inspecting every finger and the red and blue bruise — looks fresh, it can’t be more than a few days ago. “Did you see a doctor about this?”

“Yeah. Once I calmed down they drove me there. My mother — and Luke.”

She glances up at him, trying to make sense of his expression. There’s a smile there, but it isn’t a happy one. 

“What did he say?”

“He said he was _sorry_ .” Ben chuckles like it’s all a joke, a weird strange nightmare, “— that he _failed_ me.”

Her brows furrow at his words. Isn’t that what he wanted? For Luke to say he was sorry? To get their familial issues resolved? Or is he disappointed? No, can’t be. He doesn’t look angry, no sign of agitation. He looks relieved, but it doesn’t seem Luke is the cause.

“Did your mother —?” Rey tries to pry. And he just nods his head. He knows the truth.

Confused, to put it mildly, Rey steps back to look him properly in his face. “And you are not...mad?”

He waves his injured hand as if to illustrate a point. “I’m mad.”

“But —?”

“But what?” 

“You don’t — seem mad?”

Ben smirks confused at her question, slightly subdued, and takes a few steps backward to sit on the window shelf. All long-limbed and tall. He shrugs, like he doesn’t want to talk about it. Instead his hands play with the ruined flowers, waiting for her to make some move. 

Infuriating man.

“Is that really...all you have to say about that?” She crosses her arms, pouting. 

“Same old, same old. It’s shit regardless.” A smile tugs on his lips, not yet ready to fully blossom, and he asks as if to confirm. “You’re leaving tomorrow — excited?”

His sudden change of heart, change of tone, stuns her beyond compare. How he so casually asks her about something he clearly didn’t like. It doesn’t sit well with her. It makes her worried, perplexed, feeling very much in the dark about his intentions like the first time they met. She grumbles an “I don’t even know.”

“You don’t know?”

“It’s not like...I didn’t choose to go purely because —” She waves a hand in frustration, drawing her short hair back against her scalp. Why can’t he just — what is the point — “Ben. Why are you here? Leia said you...you wouldn’t be.”

He tucks the flowers between his open thighs, the blooming smile wavering, before scoffing, “I — well. You are leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

With a groan, Rey looks at the door, considering if she should leave — but something tells her she shouldn’t. Something is happening right now and she should see it through. It feels like hope, just a speck of it —

“What are you doing when you get there?” he asks, a bit more unsure.

A shrug, she’s been shrugging a lot lately. “Look for a house, introduction on campus. Figure out where the grocery store is?” 

He nods, about to ask another meaningless question, when she interrupts —

“What about you?”

“Me?”

She picks at a loose thread on the lace, “What are you going to do?”

He stares blankly ahead as if he hasn’t even considered his future, before moaning something indecisive “I’m probably gonna quit my job. I’m staying at Leia’s place and —” A deep breath, he scratches his stubble, “I don’t really know. I don’t know what I want to do.”

“I...quit your job? I thought you liked your job?”

“I apparently _liked_ you. I tolerated my job, but as soon as you were gone — It was like everything was back to before — ” Ben swallows, followed by a slight shake of the head. Her heart is thumping, ready to speed ahead at a moment’s notice. “At this point I think I’ll just always be lost. In one way or another.”

“Ben —”

“It’s true though.” He rustles the flowers in an example, more petals falling to the floor. “You are moving. Going to school. Being braver than I ever was.”

Later, Rey would realise that despite all her soul searching, that in many ways she will never get over him — her heart may not be his, but she cannot stop herself from caring anymore than she can stop the wind, the rain, the sun. And the need to soothe what aches him exceeds whatever remnant of self-preservation she has.

His cheeks are warm and his eyes fix immediately on hers the moment she steps closer and tenderly cradles his cheeks. His cheek bones, his beautiful curly black hair. It’s like touching a live wire — he’s so near, so close.

“You are not lost Ben.” She tries to smile. “You are going _somewhere_.”

“Not like you.”

“Yeah, not like me. But like _you_.” She traces one of the silver streaks of hair at his temple, wondering if he’d ever think that she has wasted years of his life. If he blames her for failing. “I want you to be happy Ben.”

Her admission cracks something and with a little silent cry he drops his head to her shoulder and pulls her by the waist so she stands between his knees. And she just lets him, perhaps she even wants it.

It’s not as much as a hug, as it is him desperately clinging to her. Warm hands digging into her back. And had there been people to watch, to judge, perhaps Rey would have hesitated, pulled away — but she doesn’t. It feels too good to be held by him.

“It’s okay.” She whispers in return, arms falling as naturally as the setting sun around his shoulders, resting her cheek against his soft waves while he swaddles her. 

“No.” Ben mumbles. “This is not okay. It never was.”

A frown, “What do you mean? This or —”

He doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Why did you do it?” Carefully, with her heart in her throat, Rey whispers into the darkness of his mane. “Why did you break up with me?”

He hums a little, as if lost in thought, before bitterly confessing —

“Actually, I’ve never been sure. Whenever I thought about it, before, after — it was mostly doubt. I still doubt.” He relaxes against her, either from letting go of the burden of doubt or from the way Rey carefully combs his hair. “But. Even with the doubt. I - I knew I would never stop doubting us, you, maybe even resent you. And you deserved more than that.” 

It’s hard to hear his words, his doubt — all this time she had thought —

“You seemed so...adamant about it though.”

He shakes his head, and in the smallest voice explains, “No. But I knew you’d stay. Even if you were miserable. So I did it for me. For _you_.”

Had this been any other day, any other month, had Rey not met the people she had met, been hurt the way she had been hurt, she may not look so fondly at the way he had decided for them. Heck, a few weeks ago she had yelled at him about exactly that. But today is the last day Rey is gonna see Ben, the last time she may ever talk to him — and he’s giving her an olive branch, asking her to accept him — it changes everything for her.

It does feel like hope.

Feels like love.

And she laughs like he has told a joke, huffing into his hair, “Ben, you talk like I’d only need one person in my life.” 

She pulls him back by the shoulders, chuckling, made even worse by how absolutely puzzled he looks. It’s endearing, it makes her happy. “While I don’t like how I learned it, you...forced me to learn that there’s not only one person in my life. Everyone’s life. You meet many people, people that matter to you. And they’re not _all_ your soulmates. But that doesn’t make them less important.”

There’s an adorable crease between his eyes, like he’s struggling to get it. Rey cradles his cheek, admiring the moles on his cheeks, his constellation of stars.

“They can be friends, family — _lovers_ .” She tries to make it sound like a goodbye, some resolution — a chance to explain all she has come to appreciate since him. But somehow she is not sure she’s saying goodbye, not really. “We may have a connection, Finn and I. But I didn’t _choose_ that connection, I didn’t fight for it to work. For the strings to grow into chains.”

A car honks outside, but it does nothing to stop her monologue. “And — I don’t know about you. But there’s just something … more amazing about that. You and I, we had problems, for sure. Our anger, we sucked at talking, unresolved traumas —” Ben grimaces at her words, but doesn't stop clutching her waist. He’s clinging to her words, desperate to hear them. “I liked it. It was safe. But...our bad things, we never worked on that.”

A breathless laugh, because for the first time since all this began there finally seems to be a point to all the misery. A nicely wrapped conclusion to the hypothesis of Rey with a soulmate. It is wrapped with a neat bow. Not the one she wanted, but it's there. She is not walking away empty-handed. 

And she doesn’t want him to leave without something too. “But, You’ll always be the one _I_ chose — and _who got away._ ”

To describe the way Ben gazes as her as the dawn breaking would not even suffice. His eyes brighten, tears well and his chin starts to quiver. Rey mistakes it for them finally having a mutual understanding. They didn’t split because they hated each other, there’s love here, so much love.

With a gasp, perhaps a sob, Ben hunches forward, averting her eyes in favour of his own shoes. He grips the dress tight, stretching the seams.

“So — you decided to stop loving me?”

No that’s — she didn’t mean it like that.

“You say that like I stopped?”

He hides his face in her chest, body trembling, like something is going wrong, and then he blurts, almost desperately. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.” A muffled bitter chuckle. “Which is really fucked up, and I didn’t realize it until I had to carry you down the stairs to the ambulance.” 

Stunned, Rey goes over their entire relationship. She — that’s not how she remembered that happened. She had failed, been too forward, and forced him into a situation where he had to help her. How could he have loved her before all of that?

“But you changed your mind,” Rey concludes, still attempting to crush that tiny flame of hope, a little breathless, a little confused. “I wasn’t enough.”

He shakes his head violently, and he adds a firm, “The flowers are for you.”

“What?” Rey pulls back to look down at the worn bouquet, and when she turns back to him, ready to demand an explanation, his eyes are hard, determined, full of mysterious intent.

“I never changed my mind. I still love you.”

“You — You love me?” Rey feels herself laugh, but she’s not sure what she is laughing about. Is she shaking? “Why...Why are you telling me this? Now — out of all time and places!”

“Are you mad?” It hurts, how firmly he holds her as he says it. 

It hurts how much she’s longed for him to say it. And that he waited until the day before she leaves to do it.

And with a whisper, she tells him something she never thought she’d admit, ever again.

“You — you — absolute buffoon. I’m leaving tomorrow!”

“I know.”

A growl, “I can’t believe after all this time, I’d probably still want to marry an idiot like you.”

“Still?” Ben exhales a breathless laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Let’s get married.”

“What?”

“Fuck soulmates. Fuck Finn — Snoke. Whatever. I’ll go with you, to San Diego. I’m fucking miserable at my job - and its certainly doesn’t help that you aren’t here either!”

Rey scrunches her nose, feeling a little dizzy, not sure what he’s fucking on about “But — I — but Finn is _still_ my soulmate…— we, we have so many things to work on —”

Ben shrugs, “Do you want to be married to him?”

“N — no?”

“Do you want to be married to me?”

It feels like she is seeing him for the first time, like she hadn’t ever seen him before. The warm glowing light from outside framing him in an ethereal halo. Has he always looked like this? Been this beautiful.

“Are you sure about this?” It feels as if she asks that more to herself than to him.

“Of course not.” This time he smiles. No, he grins, _beams._ “But you _still_ love me.”

She’s nodding, head swimming with thoughts that she isn’t sure how to name, fear, anger, hope, happiness. There are probably tears streaming down her face when she practically wails in agony “I’m sorry.” A sob, “I’m so sorry about everything. That I hurt you — that we —”

He pulls into a kiss. One that feels nothing like a first kiss. It feels like coming home. How her heart flutters the instant their lips touch, how she moans at the way he clutches her tight. So so tight. She thinks she’s crying, she thinks he’s crying. And for god’s sake she is wearing a wedding dress and...wait...is he her fiance now? Oh god, this is all so strange.

“I’m sorry, too.” Ben whispers, slanting his mouth over hers with such possessive sweetness, pulling her back under the water with him, “I’m so sorry,” followed by even more blatant forgiveness. That they were both wrong, but it’s okay. It’s okay. 

And maybe that is why the kiss feels much more than just a kiss, it’s a celebration. Of them having returned to each other, a celebration of their connection, a kiss of gratitude, that pride didn’t overtake them in favor of being here.

With each other.

They break apart in a peal of breathless laughter, and she can’t stop crying or wipe away the tears from his cheeks. He came here, for her, for them, and he thinks she looks nice in her wedding dress. He thinks she’s sweet and beautiful. 

And maybe all this time, this is what she was waiting for. For him to come back to her.

For him to _choose_ her.

“I swear to god, Ben Solo. For all this shit you put me through, you are going to give me a child. Make us a family.”

His eyes crinkle, “Only if I can get a dog.”

“He’s not gonna be named Silencer.”

Ben gives her a peck. “Fine, we’ll call him Donut.”

#    
  


****

#    
  


“So. An airport run?”

“It can’t be an airport run, if we were in the house?”

Finn shakes his head, clearly disagreeing. “It’s an airport run. He realised his mistake and ran miles to confess it to you.”

The engines roar outside the window and it’s getting dark out. They’ll be landing in two hours. Their new home. Rey rolls her eyes at her soulmate, but she isn’t mad. There has been a permanent smile plastered to her face ever since yesterday and a dreamy expression. “He ran because there was an accident.”

“He looked like he was about to run after you, when we had to go to security.”

“Finn.”

“He did.” He takes a sip of his canned Coke, flipping through the magazine he brought. “Also next time, give your soulmate a warning before I find you attacking your ex’s mouth outside an airport. I thought I was having a stroke. That I was hallucinating.”

There’s a blush on her cheeks, but it’s hard to be ashamed when Ben had all but carried her out the house (after she had changed out of the dress) and back to Leia’s house (whom he had frantically called to tell her to leave). It had been surreal, like an out of body experience, where she watched daydreams of months past come to life right in front of her. 

They had kissed in the car and in the hall of Leia’s house, but mostly they had talked, touched each other to make sure the other was real, and that was enough for now. They had agreed that much when they had sneaked below his blanket and tried to cover as much ground as possible before her flight the next day. Sex hadn’t even been on either of their minds, they just wanted to be held. Wanted to be touched.

All while whispering the questions they never had asked before —

Were they doing the right thing? How did he feel about Finn? How did she feel about Finn? 

How did they feel about each other?

_“We’ll take it slow.”_ Ben had kissed into her forehead, as he trailed a hand up her waist, _“This time.”_

This time they were gonna do it right. 

Rey turns the engagement ring on her finger. Where it belongs. The ruined bouquet safely tucked away in the overhead cabin, with a promise of drying it and framing it. 

“Okay. Here’s a warning then. He’s coming over in two weeks.”

A snort, “We better find a sound-proof apartment.”

#    
  


****

2020

#    
  


“We have time.” Ben moans into her ear, between biting and licking at her sensitive skin below. Rey squirms below him, exhaling a deep held breath, as she considers letting him convince her. 

“No. We have to get there by 9.”

A kiss on her collarbone. “We’ll make it quick.”

“You aren’t acting like we are making it quick.”

Ben chuckles, the barely rising sun painting their bedroom in soft hues of purples and blues. It’s hard to make out his expression, but she’s pretty sure he’s grinning. “We could just stay home.” He rolls his hips against hers, grinding his insistent hardness against her cunt. It feels like cheating.

“No.” Rey protests, while simultaneously seeking more friction. “We have to go. He’s very popular and busy.”

“I’ll eat you out if we stay home. Once in the morning, around midday, dinner, and before bedtime.” Wicked man, wicked words. “I’ve missed fucking you.”

“We had sex two days ago.”

“Horrible.” He slides a hand under her shirt, palming her breast while they hump each other in some poor imitation of the real deal. “We should do it more often.”

The kiss on her neck makes her laugh, makes her feel loved and appreciated. 

She hopes they can catch that at their wedding, the love they feel for each other. They share it so seldomly outside of their home to a point that Rey is convinced they must come off as two people who never talk. When in fact, that’s all they ever do.

About everything, about astronomy, cooking, about his shitty coworker Hux and Poe’s latest escapades.

She wants to be able to frame that, put it on display for everyone to see.

The alarm goes off.

Ben wasn’t quick enough.

“You can fuck me later when we get home.” She promises with a kiss, while he audibly protests her slipping out the bed. “ _And_ you get to decide how.”

Predictably, he’s up in no time.

#    
  


****

#    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bon Apple Tea


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end. Thank you so much for letting me write this story, even if it was very unconvential. 
> 
> And here, by popular demand.
> 
> Ben's POV.
> 
> Sappy rating ∞/10
> 
> Thank you [Secretreylotrash](https://twitter.com/secretreylo) for being so great at helping me out - and listening to me ranting!!
> 
> And [Aqua](https://twitter.com/aquawolfgirl) for beta-reading my shitty writing and my ESL grammar. You are a SWEETHEART!
> 
> AND THANK YOU [@TheDinkum_Reylo ](https://twitter.com/TheDinkum_Reylo) for letting me arttrade you into this [WONDERFUL manip!<3](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/790944490449797120/unknown.png) It is featured below!

#  Epilogue

2022

Ben wakes up to the sound of giggling from behind him. It’s light, subdued as if someone is trying to keep in a secret. It’s a lovely sound. The best. 

Because it is his  _ wife _ . 

Rubbing his eye, he turns over on his back to see what is so funny, groaning a little to get her attention. To have her look down on him with those wonderful hazel eyes of hers. He’s without clothes after all — and he’s worked out the week before their vacation. Why waste it?

“Why are you up?” He croaks, noticing how the light streaming through the curtains hasn’t even turned yellow yet. And Rey is naked next to him too, her tits colored the sweetest shade of orange and purple. It brings back memories of last night, how they had lazily made love in this very bed, how she had sucked his cock with the utmost attention. How she had let him bounce her in his lap.

His  _ wife _ . His wonderful adoring Rey.

She’s looking at her phone, a grin still permanently plastered onto her face. Ben likes that, he loves when she smiles. With a barely held back laugh, she shows him her phone. “I’m showing Finn our view.”

Ben narrows his eyes to focus, taking her phone in his hand and —

It’s him. From just moments ago, back naked with that unforgiving farmer’s tan he has acquired since moving with Rey to San Diego. And in the background, the edge of the Eiffel tower as seen from their window.

“Jesus, Rey!” Ben grumbles, “I don’t want Finn to see that.” (And as far as he can read from the text exchange, Finn agrees with him). 

Rey smiles and turns so she lies on her stomach, all slender toned muscles stretching across the sheets of their hotel bed, and kisses him on the nose. “He already has. And you look nice.” 

Oh yeah. Ben knows Finn has seen him naked — actually too many times for Ben’s liking. And neither had been particularly fond of those shared experiences, so now it is an unspoken agreement that Rey’s soulmate knocks, before walking into their house.

It had been strange at first, sharing a duplex between the three (when Poe is there, four) of them. Rey and Ben in the left one, Finn in the other. But as time has passed, he has come to appreciate this strange threesome of theirs. And today, maybe, in a tender moment he’d call Finn a friend.

What else would you call someone you spend the evening watching movies with when Rey isn’t there? Or goes mountain biking with? Who you summon when they need to fix stuff in your shared garden? Would Finn call him a friend? Ben supposes he could, if he wanted to.

He hadn’t been afraid of teasing Ben’s scolding when he had snapped their wedding photos. And that’s a friend thing.

Ben has a friend.

It’s nice. 

San Diego is nice, nicer than anything he has had before. Even if that means his nose and cheeks are almost permanently red, despite the amount of sunscreen he wears.

Life is good. And Rey is his  _ wife _ .

His wife kisses him on his cheek. It prickles his skin. “Gotta have a token to remember you by before you grow old and get a dad bod.”

“Delete it,” Ben demands, reaching out for the phone she has snatched back. And this lovely woman just shakes her head and hides it underneath her chest. It suits her, being married. There’s this brightness to her eyes that he has never seen. And to think he could be the source of that —

— or maybe it’s because he surprised her with tickets to Paris? For their honeymoon.

He blows a raspberry on her waist, as he throws a leg over her thighs to straddle her. She squirms but doesn’t move. “No. It’s mine. I get to keep it.”

Oh, this little — Ben presses a firm hand on her back to keep her in place and leans over to suckle on her neck — to taste the sweat of last night. She pretends to briefly struggle, before moaning into the pillow, followed by a deep-throated sigh as he snakes a hand around her chest. They both know he is not aiming for the phone.

“But I need to deliver a message to Finn.” Ben whispers, kneeing her legs apart so he can lie between them. His cock is already hard and very  _ insistent _ . He rubs it against her squishy butt cheeks, letting them caress it. It’s nice, soft, Rey arches her back, her pretense slipping ever so slowly by his attentive fingers — “I need to check in on the dog.” 

“Rian is fine.” Rey gasps.

It shouldn’t surprise him to find her already drenched. Her need for him, how easily he arouses her will always be the most confounding thing about her. Why him, why them? But it’s hard to be upset, when the finger he drags through her folds  _ squelch _ . When his wife gives a little  _ whine _ .

There is a rhythm to their lovemaking now and he’s grateful for that. It had been hard, borderline depressing the first few times they tried to have sex after they had reunited. In fact, when he first came to visit they had fallen so out of tune that he had broken down crying one afternoon as they had attempted starting  _ something _ . It had been awful, and he could do nothing but sob his regrets, to confirm this was all his fault, he broke them. And now they can’t be fixed.

He was ready to jump on a plane, had Rey not begged him to stay. Had she not kissed him and told him she wanted it. That they need to figure it out. 

It was like being a teenager again, lying in her bed slowly sinking into her, whispering small “is this okay?” while she adjusts below him. As with everything, it takes time.

But they are here now. Something new, something better.

Rey bites into the pillow the moment he pushes inside, and gosh, she’s so tight. So beautiful and soft. A bird chirps outside and it all feels so disgustingly romantic. 

One of her hands slips out from under her to clutch at the bedding, anchoring herself as he takes her painfully slow, wonderfully deep. 

He sees the ring he had slipped on her finger during the ceremony. The one they had chosen together, the one that matches his. And perhaps this is romantic, it is their honeymoon after all.

He slides his hand on top of hers, intertwining their fingers so their rings touch, and presses a kiss on the top of her spine.

And what is love without a little romance?

  
  


****

  
  


He remembers this place. The Louvre. It is as packed today as it was when he was younger, but his height helps with the claustrophobia. Still, the memory runs down his spine as a chill. The remnant feeling of drowning in bodies, voices everywhere, and his mother and father just running ahead. Each one of his hands clutched into one of theirs, like a puppet being stretched. He remembers wanting to tell them to stop, it’s too fast, it's too much — but they were busy fighting about something. 

Today it looks quite nice though. There’s peace in the air, despite the busy crowds of tourists. The Seine is close and the park stretching out in front of them is in full bloom. His hands are pocketed as he loses himself to the sights, to the child he was and very much isn’t anymore. 

They had spent the evening yesterday drinking wine at a makeshift beach on the river bank, a strange pop-up installation that summer, and seeing it stretch out before him makes his heart swell with fondness. That mental image of Rey with a sunburn on her cheeks and a plastic cup of cheap wine will forever be one of his favorites — mostly because of how the ring had glistened in the light of the setting sun.

He spies for her form at the coffee stand off to the left, probably practicing some of her pocketbook French she had eagerly devoured on the plane over. It’s amazing how a messy bun and a grey t-shirt can be so striking on her. Like the day he had first seen her at Han’s funeral. 

Even today, after a thousand  _ I-love-you’s _ , he finds himself still mentally chastising himself for being so drunk and miserable that whatever first impression he gave must have been terrible (She has confirmed that). Or that time where she had distracted him with how beautiful and sweet she was at Leia’s Christmas party, the snow stuck in her hair like tiny diamonds, so he forgot he wanted to kiss her back (she teases him about that too.)

He took a photo of her earlier, smiling as they waited on a bus, and he wishes he could store it in his heart, but for now — it’ll do as his phone background. He glances briefly at it, still a little guilty to replace his dog in favour of her.

When he looks up, it's to find Rey practically jumping back to him. There's a lightness to her feet when she hands him the coffee, which earns her one of his rare smiles. She deserves it. 

His wife.

“So —” Rey asks, a little shy, but very brave “— how is it? This time?” She stirs the wooden stick around the coffee cup and sips. 

How is it? This time?

This time they talk, this time they tell each other when they are upset, they try not to yell, they try to affirm and they try to be understanding. It’s in many ways a different relationship, but the core is the same.

But that’s probably not what she wants him to answer.

Ben shrugs, looks around the plaza. “Same suffocating crowd.”

Rey hums, agreeing that there are a lot of people here. And most of today has been spent waiting in line — but Ben doesn’t mind. It gives him an opportunity to hold her hand and run his finger over the ring, confirming that this is real. 

“Company is different though —” his eyes crinkle, and he kicks the dust lightly at his feet, “— and I think, Paris is growing on me.”

She smirks an intolerable  _ I-told-you-so, _ but chooses instead to ask, “How so?”

“Maybe it isn’t the city I hated. Maybe, in the end, it's just who you choose to go with.”

Ben watches Rey blush and glance away up at the blue sky. She looks terribly overwhelmed, nauseatingly happy “Maybe it is.”

“We should have brought Rian.”

“Next time.”

“Finn and Poe are gonna make him so fat.”

“Ben. You already made him fat.”

  
  


****

One Week Earlier

  
  


Rose  
Poe will you stop bawling!   
I can’t hear what he’s saying  
DAMNaron  
Shut up! It’s beautiful!   
I can’t believe it  
Finniboo  
Poe you are making a scene  
DAMNaron  
HE SAID  
ID LIKE TO THANK ALL SOULMATES  
FOR BRINGING REY INTO HIS LIFE  
WHY ARENT U CRYING  
FUCK  
Finniboo  
Okay it's beautiful but the wailing is unnecessary  
DAMNaron  
LOOK ITS GROWTH  
Omg look at her  
They ARE so whipped  
PUPPY EYES  
Rose  
I can't see!  
Finniboo  
here  
[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/779084075528618015/1aqdhpd9gvx41.jpg)  
  
DAMNaron  
Finn??  
[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/779084075528618015/1aqdhpd9gvx41.jpg)  
Guys. Pls.   
  
Widest HUSBAND  
Poe I will kick you out.  
DAMNaron  
I take it back! No growth  
Rose  
Great speech Ben. Truly.  
Rey so beautiful  
[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/460180474652917783/779084075528618015/1aqdhpd9gvx41.jpg)  
DAMNaron  
DID U JUST UNFRIEND ME BEN?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have my headcanons - but yall throw yours at me!
> 
> ALSO FANART
> 
> Ben all sweaty and panting discovering Rey in her weddingdress by [@2ndSWRD](https://twitter.com/2ndSWRD/status/1343533909003288576)

**Author's Note:**

> * Waves knife * Shoo! Shoo! If you don't like it, then don't read it!


End file.
